


Hocus Pocus

by ChiiwiFruit



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Cat Noctis - Freeform, Happy Ending, Iris the tiny badass, M/M, Modern AU, No Prophecy AU, Noct lives though, hocus pocus au, witch prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27201725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChiiwiFruit/pseuds/ChiiwiFruit
Summary: Gladio moves to small town Tenebrae with his dad and sister only days before Daemon's Night. It turns out the town has a famous legend about three witches who used to use the town's children to prolong their lives. When they were caught and killed, they cast a spell that they would return when a virgin summoned them on Daemon's Night during a full moon. Gladio doesn't believe the legend... until he explores the witches' old house with his crush and lights the candle. Now the witches are after him, and he has to keep Iris safe until sunrise.Based on the plot of the 1993 movie of the same name.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia & Ignis Scientia & Iris Amicitia, Gladiolus Amicitia & Prompto Argentum & Noctis Lucis Caelum & Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, Verstael Besithia & Ardyn Izunia, Verstael Besithia & Ardyn Izunia & Loqi Tummelt
Comments: 34
Kudos: 39





	1. In Which a Legend is Born

**Author's Note:**

> Daemon's Night is essentially Halloween. I have shamelessly stolen the name from [Charmkeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmkeeper/pseuds/Charmkeeper) (she doesn't mind). Check out her FFXV fics if you haven't yet, she's amazing.
> 
> Thank you to [BossGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossGoose/pseuds/BossGoose), who was kind enough to proofread this chapter for me.

“Luna! Wait for me!” Noctis yelled. When they ran together, his short legs couldn’t keep up with her longer ones, slim and pale and shining in the weak autumn sunlight.

She laughed and spun around, her white skirt billowing around her like one of those white flowers she loved so much. “No, you should hurry up!” she called back and started running again.

Ravus, bringing up the rear, rolled his eyes and slunk after them. He was sixteen and had long since declared himself too old to play with his kid sister and her even younger friend, but Sylva had told him to look after them for the day while she had “adult talk” with Aulea and Regis. He seemed to be trying to tell them how much he disapproved of this chore with his whole body, from his slouched shoulders to his scowl to the way he dragged his feet.

Noctis rolled his eyes and started running again, straining to catch up to the white figure that darted through falling leaves. It wasn’t often his family came to Tenebrae to visit, and he wanted to spend as much time with Luna as he could for the precious few days before his parents dragged him back to Lucis.

If she would stop running away!

The ground was damp from rain that morning, and Noctis slipped on wet leaves that skidded under his foot. His feet flew out from under him, and then he was tumbling down a grassy hill. He tucked his arms against him. Instinct told him not to fight gravity.

Behind him, he heard Ravus shout, but it seemed very far away through the wind rushing in his ears and the impact of his own body hitting the earth over and over.

He finally rolled to a stop, covered in dirt and leaves with little bits of sticks in his hair. For a moment he didn’t move, listening to the rhythmic beat that he thought was his heart until two concerned faces appeared above him. He realized that what he’d heard was Luna and Ravus’ running feet.

“Oh, Noctis, are you all right?” Luna knelt beside him, her blue eyes full of concern and apology. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.”

“No it isn’t,” Noctis said, refusing to let her take even perfunctory blame for his clumsiness. “I slipped.”

She started to pull him up by his shoulder but recoiled when he gasped in pain and cringed away. “You’re hurt?” she asked as he groaned. His back spasmed with pain.

“I’m fine,” he tried to assure her, but now Ravus was crouching down beside him with a concerned frown on his stupid, sulky face.

“Where does it hurt?” Ravus asked, voice crisp. He always tried to act like he was older than sixteen. It was obnoxious.

Ravus began to pat at Noctis’ shoulders and arms. Noctis pushed his hands away impatiently. “My arms are fine. It’s my back.”

“Can you sit up?”

Noctis tried, he really did, both to ease the worry that pinched Luna’s face and to show Ravus that he did _not_ need help. But as soon as his spine curved, pain exploded in his back. He gasped and flopped back on the grass. He resolved not to try moving again. It hurt too much.

“We should get you to my mother,” Ravus said. With no further warning, he picked Noctis up like he was small and insignificant. Noctis would have complained if he weren’t so busy cringing. It really hurt!

Luna’s hand slipped into his and gave a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get you home to rest, and I’m sure you’ll feel better soon,” she said, but there was worry in her eyes still.

“Sure,” Noctis said.

Ravus was eyeing the hill, which was too steep to comfortably climb while carrying an eight-year-old. “Maybe there’s another way up?” Luna suggested, her hand still in Noctis’.

“Maybe,” Ravus said. He was still frowning. “Perhaps-”

“Do you need help?”

The trio turned (not that Noctis had much choice in the matter). A pair of blond kids about Noctis’ age were standing just inside a denser line of trees. The shorter of the two had a round, friendly face full of freckles and chubby arms that poked out from under the strange robe thing he and the other one were wearing. Noctis didn’t much like the look of the other kid. There was a smug superiority in his face that reminded Noctis unpleasantly of Ravus, if Ravus had been transformed into an eight-year-old with attitude issues instead of a sixteen-year-old.

“And who are you?” Ravus asked, and yes, there was that pedantic edge Noctis hated so much.

The taller kid’s smug smile dissolved into a frown at Ravus’ tone. “Loqi,” he said shortly, “and this here is my brother, Prompto.” He laid a hand on the chubby kid’s shoulder.

Prompto smiled shyly.

“You don’t look alike,” Noctis said, because it was true. Other than a superficial similarity of being pale-skinned, blond, and blue-eyed, they had no other resemblance. That shallow description applied to Luna as well.

Loqi’s sour look became even more pronounced. “Not all siblings look identical,” he snapped.

“We’re adopted siblings,” Prompto explained. Loqi shot him a glare, and Prompto shrugged in confusion. “Well, we are.”

“But that’s none of their business!” Loqi insisted. “We’re brothers whether we’re adopted or look alike or whatever.”

“Of course,” Luna said, trying to smooth over the argument. “I’m Lunafreya. This is my brother Ravus and our friend Noctis.”

Ravus made a face at being described as Noctis’ friend, which was offensive, to be honest. Noctis had been perfectly nice to him except for that time yesterday when he had put a beetle in Ravus’ shoe, but the beetle escaped before Ravus even put his shoe on, so it’s not like that counted.

Loqi recovered his composure and was soon smiling again. “It looks like Noctis is hurt. My family lives nearby, if you want to come rest awhile,” he said.

Prompto shot Loqi a quick glance, and Loqi elbowed him. “Our father won’t mind,” Loqi insisted.

Ravus was still in his natural state. That is, wearing a frown. He glanced down at Noctis, then at the hill that he probably could climb up, but which was steep. He might jostle Noctis and make the injury worse. His lips parted in an almost imperceptible sigh. “All right,” he said. “Lead the way.”

“Of course. This way.” It was Loqi who spoke, but both boys turned and followed a narrow animal trail through the trees. There was only enough room to walk single file, so Luna had to let go of Noctis' hand. She chose to walk in front of Ravus and Noctis, and she tried to make conversation with Prompto.

“Hello. Prompto, was it?” she asked, giving him her friendly smile.

“Y-Yeah.”

“I’m Luna. How old are you?”

“Eight.”

“How old are _you?_ ” Loqi asked from the head of the line.

“Twelve,” Luna replied.

“Hm,” Loqi said thoughtfully. “That’s probably young enough, right, Prompto?”

“Young enough for what?” Ravus asked, his eyebrows pinching together.

“Young enough to hang out with us. But you’re too old.” Loqi made a face back at Ravus, who glared at him but continued to follow.

“I am _not_ leaving my sister,” Ravus said.

Loqi snorted. “Of course not. Otherwise, who would carry the little guy?” He jerked his chin at Noctis, who resented being referred to as ‘little’. “How old is he, anyway?” Loqi smirked like he knew Noct was seething inside.

Noctis glared and refused to answer. Unfortunately, Luna jumped in to answer for him, at ease despite Loqi’s subtle goading. “He’s eight as well,” she said.

“Luna!” Noct protested, but she just looked over her shoulder at him and shrugged. There was no chance to chastise her further, because the trees opened up. Before them was a little cottage set back from the trees with smoke drifting up from a chimney like in a fairy tale, filling the air with the pleasant scent of wood smoke. There was a line of washing from which hung the gaudiest clothes Noctis had ever seen. There were a number of strange robes like the ones Loqi and Prompto wore, but bigger and in a hodge-podge of colours. The owner of the gaudy clothes was there as well, wearing a robe and multiple mismatched scarves as he picked up an equally ugly patterned shirt to hang on the line.

Both boys ran to the man, whose hair was the oddest shade of red-brown. “Uncle Ardyn!” they cried as they approached. But Ravus stopped dead. Noctis glanced up at him. Ravus was usually pale, but now his face was paper white. His eyes narrowed into slits at the homey scene before them. “Lunafreya, come here. We’re leaving,” he said in a clipped voice. He was already backing down the path.

Luna stopped and turned, her hands clasped behind her and a puzzled expression on her face. “What is it?” she asked, but she obeyed, skipping back to Ravus and peering up at him with worried blue eyes. “I thought we were going to let Noctis rest here?”

“I changed my mind. Better to take him home to Mother. She’ll be able to help him better than these . . . people.” The way Ravus said ‘people’ implied that he thought that they were anything but, which confused Noctis because they seemed normal enough, even if Loqi was a twit.

“But-” Luna began.

“ _Now,_ Lunafreya.”

That tone meant serious business, so Luna reluctantly fell in line.

Pain spasmed in his back when Ravus whirled back down the path. He wanted to tell Ravus to take it easy, but Ravus had gone rigid. It took a second for Noctis to understand through his pain-haze: Ravus was afraid.

He managed to catch a glimpse back into the clearing as Ravus darted back into the trees, Luna hot on his heels. Loqi was glaring after them, angry that they had decided not to come in after all, but Prompto looked strangely relieved. The red-haired man was watching with amusement, standing with his hands on his hips next to the line of dripping washing. An old man with a sour face came out of the cottage an instant before the trees cut them from view.

Ravus had apparently decided that the best course of action was to go back to the steep hill Noctis had rolled down and slog back up it. Noctis did not enjoy this, especially since he had to wrap both arms around Ravus’ neck to keep from being dropped as Ravus would brace one arm on the ground for balance.

“Be gentle with him!” Luna protested when Ravus slipped and nearly landed on top of Noctis.

“I’m trying, Lunafreya,” he grumbled, but they soon reached the top of the hill.

Ravus seemed to relax when minutes passed and no one chased them. Luna caught up, panting, but didn’t seem too upset by Ravus’ sudden change of mind. She craned her neck up to check on Noct, noted that he was pale, and frowned with worry.

Noctis wanted to tell her that he was fine, but his back hurt too much. It was a relief to reach town and head straight for the Nox Fleuret household.

Sylva and Aulea stood up in alarm when Luna clattered through the door and held it open so that Ravus could follow with Noctis in his arms.

“Children! What happened?” Sylva asked, and there was a flurry of activity around Noctis as Ravus set him down on the couch and he and Luna explained about his tumble down the big hill.

It was kind of nice to be fussed over, except that Sylva insisted on removing his shirt. Once she had, she smeared a stinky cream all over his back.

Noctis’ nose crinkled, and Sylva tutted at him. “Perhaps it smells bad, but it will help.”

Then Noctis was bundled into pyjamas and his father carried him up to bed. To “rest.” It was still daytime!

Noctis sulked in one of the many guest bedrooms in Sylva’s big house, surrounded by a mountain of feather pillows. He was in too much pain to get up and play the way he wanted to. So he tried to get comfortable, even though it was stuffy in the room with the window closed.

He was bored. Bored, bored, bored! He wanted to play with Luna and couldn’t because he was stuck in bed.

Stupid hill. Stupid clumsy feet.

There was a soft tap on the door, and then Luna’s blonde head poked in. “Oh good, you _are_ awake,” she said, slipping through the door with a book in one arm and an unlit lantern in the other. “I thought I could read to you for a bit,” she said, holding up the book for him to see.

It looked like one of the big history books her mom made her read for her lessons. Noct wasn’t much interested in them, but being with Luna was better by far than being alone, so he nodded eagerly.

“That’d be nice. Thanks,” Noctis said, and Luna smiled. She skipped over to sit with him on the bed, setting the lantern on the small side table. She tucked her feet next to her and angled the book so that Noctis could see the pictures as she read.

Noctis didn’t care much for dry old stories about the Astrals, but he was grateful for the company, so he didn’t tell her to stop. As the sun slipped slowly out of sight, Luna got up briefly to light the lantern before returning to his side to continue reading.

He must have fallen asleep, for it was full dark when he awoke. Luna was gone, and the lamp had burned down. The sharp pain in his back had faded to a dull ache, so Sylva’s medicine seemed to have worked.

Luna must have gone to her own bed when he fell asleep. Noctis closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the crisp autumn breeze through the open window ruffling his hair. Had Luna opened it at some point after he dozed off? He was sure it had been closed earlier.

Only a few moments later, there was a sharp rap on the door. Noctis opened his eyes a beat before Ravus swung the door open and swept inside. There was enough light streaming through the window from the full moon for Noctis to see Ravus’ pale eyes sweep the room and his face pinch with worry.

“Lunafreya isn’t in here?” Ravus asked. He paced across the floor like he was going to check the wardrobe to see if his sister was inside.

Noct sat up. “No. I fell asleep. She was gone when I woke up.”

Ravus cursed, alarming Noctis. He slid his feet to the floor and stood up cautiously. His back twinged harder this time, but at least he could walk.

“She isn’t in her room?” Noctis asked.

“No.” Ravus was agitated, pacing back and forth like he wasn’t sure where to look next. “Nor in the kitchen, the library, the garden, or Mother’s room. Nor is she with the dogs.”

Noctis took a step forward and stubbed his toe on something. It was the book Luna had been reading to him. Why would she leave it on the floor? The night stand was right there. Luna was careful with her things. She would never leave a book open face-down on the floor. She said it damaged the spine.

He bent to pick the book up, and his back screamed. He gasped and straightened, leaving the book where it was. It would have to stay there. Bending over hurt too much.

He was about to ask Ravus another question when the wind direction changed. Outside, he could faintly hear someone singing. A man with a jolly tone. It was late enough that it could just be a drunk man heading home from the tavern, but the words were strange.

_“Come little children  
I’ll take thee away  
Into a land of enchantment.”_

Ravus heard it too. His head snapped up and his face twisted. “Damn it, the witches have her!” And he ran out, leaving Noctis standing in confusion.

Outside, the song continued.

_“Come little children  
The time’s come to play  
Here in my garden of shadows.”_

There was nothing to do but follow Ravus.

He followed the sound of a fist striking wood and found Ravus pounding on Sylva’s door. “Mother, wake up! The witches of the Izunia house have taken Lunafreya!” He didn’t wait for an answer before pushing past Noctis and charging down the stairs. The front door banged shut after him as he raced out into the night without even a lantern.

Noctis raced after him, not even pausing for shoes, afraid that a hesitation would mean losing Ravus. Ravus seemed to know where he was going, and Noctis did not.

Ravus was older and faster. Noctis had to sprint just to keep him in sight, his back protesting his every step and small stones, sticks, and pine needles pricking his bare feet. Finally, desperate, he called out, “Ravus! Wait!” But Ravus gave no sign that he heard.

Noctis finally realized where they were going when he slipped and skidded down the big hill he’d tumbled down earlier.

They were going to Loqi and Prompto’s house.

Now that he knew the destination, it didn’t matter so much if he lost sight of Ravus. Which was good, because he did as soon as Ravus entered the treeline.

_“Follow, sweet children_  
I’ll show thee the way  
Through all the pain and the sorrows.” 

The singing grew louder. It made Noctis dizzy if he focused on the words, so he tuned it out. Something bad had happened to Luna, and he had to save her.

Hands grabbed him before he could go charging into the clearing where the little cottage sat. One hand slapped over his mouth to keep him from screaming while the other arm held him in a crushing grip. His eyes watered from the pain in his back. He struggled, ignoring the waves of pain. He had to get to Luna!

He could see her. Luna. She stood on the front step of the cottage. In her white dress, she glowed in the firelight emanating through the open door. Then the red-haired man with the smile that put Noctis on edge ushered her inside and the door slammed closed. The clearing went dark except for the light of the full moon.

“It’s me, Noctis!” Ravus hissed in his ear.

Noctis stopped squirming, and Ravus released him. When he turned, he could barely see Ravus’ outline in the dark of the trees.

“What’s going on?” Noctis couldn’t help but babble questions, but he kept his voice low out of fear of being heard. “How do you know they’re witches? What do they want with Luna?”

Ravus hushed him and peeked through the branches to make sure no one else was coming out of the cottage. When he was sure that the coast was clear, he crept through the trees circling the house.

“I’ve heard stories of the men who live here,” Ravus whispered as they worked their way through the trees around the side of the cottage. “Besithia and Ardyn, their names are. Ever since they moved here, now and again a child will go missing on Daemon’s Night. Disappeared from their beds in the night with no evidence of force, never to be seen again. Besithia and Ardyn never have visitors, and they don’t engage with the townspeople at all.”

“That doesn’t make them witches,” Noctis pointed out.

Ravus sent him an impatient look over his shoulder. “They moved here before even my mother was born,” Ravus said flatly. “Ardyn has always looked the same, according to Mother. But Besithia ages and grows younger again. It’s not normal.”

A chill went over Noctis that had nothing to do with the cold October air. “But what do they want with Luna?” he asked again, a quaver in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Ravus replied. “But I’m going to get her out. Wait here.” He left the trees and darted across the open ground, bent half-over to avoid being seen through the open window. He used the line of washing for cover and skirted around the small vegetable patch, coming to a stop underneath the window. He eased up to peek through, and Noctis could only guess what he saw.

Alone, Noctis shivered from fear and cold. His bare feet were almost numb. He was scared, because Ravus was scared, and because Ravus’ story had unnerved him. But Luna was his friend. He couldn’t just stand around while she was in danger, even if Sylva and his parents were probably on their way. He couldn’t count on that. And he couldn’t let Ravus take on two men by himself.

He gulped, took a deep breath, and crept across the open ground to Ravus. His heart pounded in his ears. He was certain that the cottage door would be flung open at any moment. He would be caught and stuck in a stew pot or whatever the witches did with the kids they kidnapped—what they planned to do to Luna.

Ravus jumped and scowled when Noctis appeared at his side but didn’t send him away. He shifted sideways to make room for Noctis. Noctis had to stretch up on his toes to see through the window.

The interior of the cottage looked cozy at first glance with throws in the garish fabrics that Ardyn seemed to prefer draped over chairs and couches. The more he looked, though, the more unusual items he noticed scattered about. On the table was a thick tome bound in green-dyed leather that was peeling from age. On the spine was a bulging eye, which Noctis assumed to be fake until the pupil whirled around to take in the room.

Noctis gasped, and Ravus’ hand clamped over his mouth again.

Along one wall was a floor-to-ceiling shelf lined with jars. Some of the jars glowed as though fire and lightning were trapped inside. Others held objects floating in liquid, but Noctis couldn’t make out what they were.

The fireplace was unused in favour of a fire pit that had been built in the centre of the room. A hole had been ripped in the ceiling to let out the smoke. On the mantel of the cold fireplace was a line of human skulls too small to belong to adults.

Noctis gulped.

A large cauldron hung from a rod over the roaring fire in the fire pit. Ardyn and Besithia were gathered around it, talking among themselves as they stared into its bubbling depths.

And there, sitting in a chair in a dim corner, was Luna.

She sat so still that she was easily overlooked and could have been mistaken for a life-sized doll. Her hands were folded in her lap, and she stared straight ahead with a vacant expression. All of the personality and vitality she’d had earlier in the day was gone. Its absence frightened Noctis even more than the row of skulls.

There was no question that Luna had been bewitched.

“Loqi!” Besithia barked so suddenly that Noctis jumped in Ravus’ hold.

Loqi slunk into the room from a doorway that Noctis presumed led to the bedrooms. “Yes, Father?” he asked.

Besithia did not look away from the contents of the cauldron. “Bring me my spellbook.”

“Ardyn is right there. Can’t he get your book for you?” Loqi whined.

Besithia looked up, and the look he sent Loqi was pure poison. “You dare talk back to me?” he demanded. “Where would you be if I hadn’t picked you out of the gutter? This spell is for _your_ sake too, you ungrateful boy. Now, bring me my book before I lose my patience.”

Ardyn looked amused even as he patted Besithia on the shoulder. “Now, now, Verstael. There’s no need to be cross with the poor child,” he said with a honeyed charm. “And Loqi, I’ve already done my part. I brought the girl.”

Noctis suddenly realized that Ardyn’s voice was the one that had been singing earlier. He’d stopped once he had Luna in his clutches.

Sullen, Loqi slunk across the room to pick the heavy tome off the table. The eye stared up at him as he carried it the two feet to Besithia, who accepted it without a word of thanks.

“Do we really have to kill the girl?” Prompto’s anxious voice came from somewhere out of sight. “She seemed nice earlier.”

Ravus’ hand fell away from Noctis’ mouth, and he began to creep down the side of the house. Noctis followed, but he could still hear the witches talking through the window. His heart pounded. Kill Luna? They couldn't!

Besithia seemed like an ill-tempered old man to Noctis’ ears. “ _Yes_ , Prompto. As I explained earlier,” he said with exaggerated patience. “We need her life force to add to ours. Obviously, she cannot live without it. Once we take it, she will die.”

“Don’t look so sad, Prompto,” Loqi said. Ravus had found a back door and was easing it open. It creaked, but the witches didn’t seem to hear over the roar of the fire and their own chatter. “She’s just a human. We are infinitely superior to her.”

If Prompto replied, Noctis couldn’t hear it. He eased through the door after Ravus into a narrow mud room cluttered with boots and gardening tools, along with a washing tub. They picked their way through carefully, knowing that if they knocked something over, the witches would hear and it would be all over for them.

Noctis wondered if Ravus had a plan. They had to get Luna out fast.

They edged along the narrow hallway, backs pressed to the wall as there was no door between the hallway and the main room where the witches were. The only thing blocking them from view were stacks of books that hadn’t been moved in so long that spiders had coated them in cobwebs.

The problem with all the dust and cobwebs was that Noctis had the immediate urge to sneeze. He covered his face with his arm in an attempt to stifle it, but the witches fell silent.

“What was that?” Besithia demanded.

Heeled boots clicked across the floor and Ardyn’s voice came from somewhere very close. “Perhaps a little kitty seeking shelter from the cold?”

“N-No, it was just me,” Prompto said. “Sorry.”

Noctis wasn’t sure why Prompto felt the need to take the blame, but he was grateful as Ardyn’s heels clacked away. “Now, Besithia,” he drawled, sneezing sounds forgotten. “Can’t we get on with it? You must have read the spell a dozen times by now.”

“I don’t want to make a mistake. You remember what happened in Niflheim.”

Ardyn was dismissive. “Yes, but Iedolas was notorious for rushing things. We’re much smarter.”

Besithia grumbled for a moment more, then started barking out demands for ingredients.

“Stinger of a Reapertail.”

“Eye of Yellowtooth.”

“Three rainbow frogs, freshly slain.”

At each demand, light-footed steps darted across the floor. Noctis guessed that it was Loqi and Prompto being the go-fers for this task. All the action was centred on the other side of the room, so Ravus took a risk moving from the hallway to the bookshelf. After a beat to make sure no one was watching, Noctis followed.

“I said fur of Garulessa, not Garula! Pay attention, boy!” and the sound of a blow had Noctis flinching.

“Well what do we have it for if we never use it?” Loqi whined but darted out of reach before Besithia could strike him again.

Ravus motioned for Noctis to come over to him. Noctis obeyed, and Ravus lifted him up onto the loft. Noctis ducked down among boxes and bottles that looked like they hadn’t been opened for centuries and grimaced as he wiped a sticky cobweb on his shirt. He had a better view of the witches from up here, and he waited for Ravus to join him.

However, Ravus hissed. “You stay up there where it’s safe. Once I get Lunafreya, throw a bunch of jars down at the witches and then run home. You hear me? Run home.”

Noctis nodded, but Ravus was already slipping around the bookshelf. He was still hidden from sight by stacks of crates for now, since the witches appeared to be disgusting slobs, but it wouldn’t be long before he would have to break cover.

“A handful of ground Seadevil scales.”

“How big a handful?” Prompto asked.

“Just bring me the jar,” Besithia said impatiently. He took the large dusty jar from Prompto and tossed a generous handful of powder into the cauldron, which fizzed and frothed at the addition. The potion began to glow green, casting an eerie glow over Besithia’s eager face and Ardyn’s bored one.

Besithia nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. “Perfect,” he muttered. Then, louder. “Time for the final ingredient, ‘a piece of thine own tongue.’”

Prompto’s eyes rounded. “What?” he asked.

Besithia was already biting a chunk from the end of his tongue. He spat it into the cauldron and wiped blood from his mouth, stepping aside so that Ardyn could do the same. The potion glowed brighter.

“Come now, Loqi, it’s your turn,” Ardyn said.

Loqi stepped forward. It took him a couple tries to bite through the tip of his tongue, and he grimaced as he stepped away.

“Now Prompto.”

Prompto shuffled backwards. “Do I have to?” he asked. “I mean, it's already got tongue bits from the three of you.” He broke off as Ardyn draped an arm around his shoulders and steered him toward the cauldron. Although Prompto didn’t resist, he shrank away from Ardyn’s hold.

He stared into the contents of the cauldron, then glanced at Luna with a look of pain.

“It won’t work for you if it doesn’t have a piece of you,” Besithia growled. “If you can’t do it yourself, I’ll help you.” And he pulled a small, wicked-looking knife from his belt.

Prompto whimpered and tried to back away, but Ardyn blocked him from behind. Loqi rolled his eyes as Prompto squirmed and Besithia tried to grab hold of Prompto’s tongue.

“Don’t be a _baby_ , Prompto. It barely hurts, and we’ll get to live an extra fifty or sixty years!” Loqi said. His eyes gleamed in a way that frightened Noctis, though he couldn’t have explained why.

Ardyn held Prompto while Besithia cut the tip off his tongue. Prompto went still as soon as the knife neared his skin, not wanting to risk a more severe injury by struggling.

“There, see?” Ardyn cooed once Prompto’s tongue bit was in the cauldron. He stroked Prompto’s face in a way that was probably meant to be soothing but was actually just creepy. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

From the look on Prompto’s face, Noctis guessed that it had been every bit as bad as it looked.

He had been so focused on the drama happening near the cauldron that he had forgotten to track Ravus. He glanced where Ravus had been, and his heart dropped as he realized that Ravus wasn’t there. He shuffled closer to the loft railing, scanning shadowy corners, but he couldn’t find Ravus.

“The potion is ready!” Besithia announced. “Now, we must feed it to the girl.”

He dragged the spoon that he’d been using to stir the potion out of the cauldron. It was enormous, pitted and blackened with years of use. He scooped up some of the glowing green potion and turned toward Luna.

Without thinking, Noctis stood up and screamed, “Don’t touch her!”

The reaction was almost comical. Besithia jolted, spilling glowing green potion all over the floor and the front of Luna’s dress. Ardyn whirled, his eyes flashing with a strange light that had Noctis taking a step back, his heart clenching in fear. Ardyn took a step in Noctis’ direction, but in his alarm, Loqi fell over and Ardyn had to skip to the side to avoid trodding on him.

The only person who didn’t seem surprised to see Noctis was Prompto. He tilted his face up to stare at Noctis with dismay in his blue eyes. He mouthed the word ‘run’, echoing Ravus’ order.

Noctis didn’t run.

At least, he didn’t run _away._

Luna had not moved. Her eyes stared glassily at nothing, and she did not care that scalding hot potion was blistering her skin and staining her dress.

Ravus bolted from behind another bookshelf and shoved Ardyn. Ardyn yelled in surprise. His feet tangled with Loqi and he went down, crushing Loqi beneath him.

Noctis remembered that he was supposed to throw things as Ravus charged Besithia, yelling for Besithia to return Luna. Noctis picked up a jar, slippery from dust and sticky with cobwebs, and threw it. He was too weak to hit Besithia, but Ardyn had to duck to avoid being hit in the head.

A beam of green light had Noctis gasping and ducking. Ravus screamed and fell to the twisted floorboards. The green light was coming from Besithia’s hand. His face twisted in fury as he kept the spell aimed on Ravus, who writhed and screamed on the floor.

Noctis cowered against the railing. He hadn’t realized that witches could do anything like what Besithia was doing to Ravus. It was horrible. He had to make it stop.

His hands shook as he crawled between two crates for extra cover. He grabbed a heavy vase from one of them and heaved it onto the railing. His back muscles contracted in sudden pain, and he gasped and let go of the vase. It overbalanced and fell before he was ready, missing Ardyn and Loqi by mere inches.

Ardyn kicked Loqi out of the way and started for the wooden ladder that led to the loft. “I think I need to catch the little kitty that’s messing about,” he laughed. His eyes were shining again. Red, like a demon.

Noctis staggered upright and looked around wildly, but there was nowhere to run. Ardyn was on the ladder, and it was too high for him to jump from the loft to the floor. Maybe Ravus could have done it, but Noctis definitely couldn’t.

The screaming stopped. Rather than relief, Noctis’ heart froze in terror. Forgetting Ardyn, he scrambled over to the railing. Ravus was pale and still on the floor, but he was choking for air. Alive. Thank the Astrals.

A hand grabbed Noctis’ collar and wrenched him backward. He shrieked and clawed at Ardyn’s wrist. His fingertips grew sticky with blood, but Ardyn showed no sign of pain and did not let go.

“I found our little kitty,” Ardyn sang, hauling Noctis down the ladder and tossing him to the floor next to Ravus.

The impact sent pain spasming through Noctis’ back to his extremities. He gasped and froze, waiting for the pain to subside. Sweat dripped from his face from fear, exertion, and pain.

Next to him, Ravus tried to push onto all fours. Ardyn kicked him in the side. Ravus grunted and collapsed back to the floor, curling around his injured side.

“Now, where did we leave off?” Ardyn said, ignoring Ravus and Noctis now that they were subdued.

Besithia sent them a scathing look. “Humans,” he muttered in the same tone one might say _vermin._ He straightened his cloak and examined Luna, noting the burn blisters on her arms from the potion. “She has been damaged.”

“No matter. It’s a superficial injury, and her life force won’t have been affected,” Ardyn replied.

“Hmm.” Besithia grumbled for a moment, then righted the spoon and dipped it back into the potion. “Loqi, Prompto, make sure the humans don’t interfere.”

With a smirk, Loqi came over and planted his foot on Ravus’ back, preventing him from getting up. Shuffling steps circled around to Noctis. He glared up as Prompto crouched next to him.

He almost choked when Prompto shoved something gooey and sickly sweet into his mouth. “Eat this,” Prompto whispered out the side of his mouth. “It’ll help with your back.”

Noctis wanted to ask why he should trust Prompto, but his mouth was too full. So full that he couldn’t help swallowing some even as he tried to spit it out.

Prompto’s face was tense, his eyes full of apology. He kept glancing up at Ardyn with something like fear.

“Yes!” Besithia crowed. It was so sudden that Noctis flinched.

Noctis squirmed around on the floor until he could see Luna, and his heart dropped. She was glowing, and not from moonlight. She wasn’t sitting by a window. Instead, she seemed to be glowing from within. Then the glow rose into the air. It was almost like steam, but glittery. Its appearance seemed to please the witches except Prompto, which frightened Noctis. This was what the witches wanted to happen.

What the witches wanted to happen was supposed to kill Luna.

Noctis sat up, surprised when he was actually able to. His back hurt, but not as much as before. Prompto hadn’t been lying after all. He also didn’t alert the adults that Noctis was moving. It was Loqi who tried to intervene.

“Hey-” Loqi began, angry, but didn’t get another word out before Noctis launched himself at him.

He and Loqi tumbled to the hard floorboards in a jangle of limbs. Noctis flung punches blindly, hitting any part of Loqi that he could. He was aware that the adults were yelling, but he sank his teeth into Loqi’s arm.

Loqi screamed and grabbed a fistful of Noctis’ hair. It hurt like Noctis’ skin was being ripped off, but he didn’t let go. What was a little pain compared to Luna's life?

Another, bigger hand hauled him up by the back of his shirt, still clinging to Loqi with his teeth. He tasted blood in his mouth. The force of gravity dragged Loqi away from him and he was forced to let go, panting, coppery blood dripping down his chin. He didn’t know or care if the blood was Loqi’s or his own.

He struggled and kicked, trying to hit Ardyn and get free. His feet only connected with empty air, and Ardyn’s hand was too far back for him to claw at. “Let me go!” he said. Rage burned in his chest. How dare they try to hurt Luna! She was sweet and kind. She’d never hurt anyone in her life. Ravus was right—the witches were evil. He had to save Luna.

In the corner near Luna, Ravus was on his feet and grappling with Besithia. Besithia used the enormous spoon to block Ravus’ punches and prevent Ravus from getting close.

Ravus’ face twisted in fury and frustration. He snatched an open jar off the table, left there in Besithia’s eagerness, and flung it at Besithia. The air clouded with powdered Seadevil scale and soon everyone was coughing.

Noctis’ eyes burned and ran. He coughed and sneezed, swiping at his eyes with his hands to try and clear it.

There was the crash of breaking glass. Ravus was throwing more jars. Anything he could reach. Desperation had overcome conscious thought and all he could think about was getting Luna out.

Besithia was forced backwards, protecting his face with his loose sleeve and brandishing the spoon like a club.

Ardyn spun, cursed. “Loqi! Dratted brat, where are you?” he demanded.

Noctis could see Loqi and Prompto cowering under a table, but neither one crawled out to help the witches or Noctis.

With another oath, Ardyn turned back to Besithia. Then his free hand began to glow green as malevolent light gathered there.

Remembering what had happened earlier, Noctis screamed, “Ravus, look out!”

Ravus didn’t even turn from clawing at Besithia’s face. The spell struck him right between the shoulder blades. He was flung forward into Besithia, knocking the old witch back into the wall. Ravus slid limply to the floor and didn’t move.

Terror turned Noctis’ blood to ice and all the fight left him. Ravus’ eyes were wide and staring. Noctis had never seen a dead person before. Both sets of his grandparents had died before he was born. But he instinctively knew that Ravus was dead. His eyes had gone as glassy as Luna’s, but there was no spark of life in them like there was in hers.

All of a sudden, he was alone.

Part of him knew then that he would die too. Noctis couldn’t fight two adults on his own. There was no hope of him saving Luna now. He and Luna would join Ravus soon.

Panting, Besithia straightened. He gave Ravus’ body a kick. “Nuisance,” he cursed.

Noctis was furious. To treat Ravus like that-!

But no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t get free.

“Well, he’s taken care of,” Besithia said. He glanced at Luna and looked pleased. “And not all of the girl’s life force has escaped yet. Get rid of the human boy and partake, Ardyn.”

“Naturally. It would seem a shame to merely kill the boy after all the trouble he’s caused,” Ardyn mused. He dropped Noctis to the floor. This time the blood in his mouth was definitely his own: he bit his lip on impact. “I keep calling him ‘little kitty’. Might as well make it official, eh?” His tone changed. “Twist the bones and bend the back. Trim him of his baby fat. Give him fur as black as black!”

There was green light building in the palm of his hand. Noctis’ body braced. This was it. _'Sorry, Luna,'_ he thought. And then the light hit him.

The pain was so excruciating that he couldn’t even scream. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His bones popped and shattered under his skin. He was dimly aware of Prompto shouting for Ardyn to stop, but his voice cut in and out through the waves of pain.

Through eyes squeezed half shut and vision blurred by tears, Ardyn looked very big. Was Ardyn growing?

Noctis tried to crawl backward across the floor, but his legs tangled together. He flopped over on his side, limp with exhaustion. His muscles twitched with the after effects of pain, but most of it had passed, thank the Astrals.

His panting breaths told him that he wasn’t dead. Why wasn’t he dead?

Ardyn turned away from him and walked up to Luna. “Now that we’ve taken care of the interference . . . ”

He, Besithia, and Loqi circled Luna. Loqi’s face was bright with eagerness and excitement, and Noctis hated him.

 _‘Leave her alone!’_ he wanted to scream, but all that came out was a weak, “Meow.”

The witches began to slurp up Luna’s life force like soup. Noctis tried to get up, to make a last effort to stop them, but he couldn’t.

Prompto knelt next to him. “Shhhh,” he whispered when Noctis made a weak attempt to bite him. Prompto was huge! Had Noctis been shrunk?

Prompto scooped Noctis into his arms and began to back away from his family, who were too preoccupied with Luna to notice. Luna, whose skin was growing saggy and grey. Once glossy and golden, her hair was now colourless and the texture of straw.

Noctis hadn’t saved her.

They reached the door without the witches noticing. Prompto held Noctis in one arm and reached behind him to open the door. It creaked when it opened, but the witches were busy gloating and congratulating each other. Prompto slipped out into the night and headed for the path, but the sight of many torches coming through the woods made him balk. He darted into the trees and crouched among the ferns, hidden from view as the townspeople stormed up to the house.

Noctis recognized many of them despite what little he could see through the fern fronds from his position on Prompto’s lap. Strangely, the dark was no longer a problem. What he could see, he saw clearly.

“Witches!” a voice bellowed, and Noctis’ heart constricted. He squirmed, but Prompto only held him tighter.

 _‘That’s my dad!”_ he wanted to say, but again his voice failed him.

Even so, Prompto seemed to understand. “It’s no good. He won’t recognize you,” he whispered in the dark. The ranting of the mob, who had driven Ardyn and Besithia out of the house, meant that they did not hear him. “I’m sorry. You’re a cat, now.”

Noctis looked down at himself in surprise. Instead of hands, he had paws covered in glossy black fur. And wait . . . was that a tail?

Noctis thought a word that his mother would scold him for if she knew. Ardyn thought it would be funny to turn him into a cat!

“Where is my son?” Regis demanded of Ardyn, who smirked even as the townspeople bound his hands behind him with thick rope. One of Regis’ arms was around Aulea, who sobbed into his shoulder.

Inside the house, Sylva was wailing over her children while one of her servants tried to comfort her. But there was no sign of Noctis.

“Ah! A full moon,” Ardyn remarked, smiling as the moon shone through the clouds. “You know what that means, don’t you, Verstael?”

“Naturally,” Besithia grumbled.

Loqi was hauled out of his hiding place and made to stand with the other witches. In unison, Ardyn and Besithia began to recite a spell, nudging Loqi who reluctantly joined in. “Thrice I with mercury purify and spit upon the tables. On Daemon’s Night when the moon is round, a virgin will summon us from under the ground. We shall be back!”

The mob went crazy, descending on the witches with pitchforks and makeshift clubs. Prompto trembled and gathered Noctis up, turning to run into the woods. Loqi’s screams and Ardyn’s manic laughter chased them through the dark until both were abruptly cut off.


	2. In Which Gladio Tries to Impress a Boy

“And thus, the three witches of Fleurs de Jardins met their end. Sylva Nox Fleuret was forced to bury both her son and her daughter and was never the same after that. As for poor Noctis Lucis Caelum, no one knew what became of him. His father and mother scoured the countryside looking for him, but not a trace could be found.” The teacher leaned against the desk as she finished the tale. “However, legend has it that a black cat guards the old Izunia house, warning off anyone who might wake the witches.”

The bell rang shrilly overhead, and there was a flurry of activity as the students shoved textbooks, binders, and loose papers into their bags and prepared to leave the class. The teacher raised her voice to be heard over the noise.

“Remember to study chapter four of your textbooks! I know you all have plans for Daemon’s Night, but the test will be on Monday whether you are in sugar comas or not.”

Gladiolus hadn’t wanted to move from the thriving metropolis of Insomnia to some backwater town in Tenebrae, but he had to admit that their urban legends were pretty cool. Gladio loved stories and was something of a history buff, so he was pleased that even a small place like Fleurs de Jardins had interesting tales.

That didn’t mean he necessarily believed the stories, but hey, it was a good time.

Despite what the teacher said, Gladio didn’t actually have plans for Daemon’s Night. He’d probably end up taking Iris around the neighbourhood trick-or-treating. She was only eight, so not old enough to go trooping around alone after dark. Especially in an area she didn’t know. That’s how it was when you moved to town only three days ago and hadn’t made any friends yet.

He was in the same boat as Iris for that one.

But there was one guy he had his eye on to befriend.

Gladio hung around waiting for the classroom to empty, which it did quickly. Most teens didn’t want to stick around a second longer than necessary.

Ignis Scientia remained in his seat, dutifully copying notes from textbook to notebook. He was one of those nerdy types, but way cuter than the brainiacs back home. His gelled hair was still perfectly coiffed at the end of a long school day, and unlike his peers, he dressed in a fancy dress shirt and polished leather shoes. As he watched, Ignis adjusted his glasses and copied another sentence in beautiful cursive.

Some of their classmates said Ignis was stuck up.

Gladio thought he was adorable.

So he screwed up his courage, tucked his hands in his pockets, and approached Ignis' desk in a way he hoped was casual. “Hey,” he said.

Ignis glanced up in surprise. Behind his glasses, his eyes were a beautiful pale green. Gladio tried not to stare. “Yes?” he asked in that clipped, accented voice that Gladio had paid so much attention to over the past couple days.

Of course, around here Gladio was the one with the accent. They were in Tenebrae, and Ignis’ accent was cultured Tenebraen.

“We’d better get a move on. Miss Doctrina wants to lock the classroom,” Gladio said, nodding his head toward the door where their teacher was patiently waiting for all the students to leave so she could lock up for the night.

“Oh.” Ignis’ eyes widened and he hurriedly packed up his things, managing to be tidy despite his rush. “Pardon me, Miss, I got carried away.”

She smiled at him. “Not a problem, Mr. Scientia. I wish all my students took learning as seriously as you do.” She waited for them to leave, then turned off the lights and locked the door. “I’ll see you boys on Monday. Happy Daemon’s Night!”

“Happy Daemon’s Night,” they echoed.

To Gladio’s pleasure, Ignis didn’t immediately ditch him. “Thank you for letting me know it was time to go,” Ignis said. “Sometimes I focus too hard on my notes and don’t realize class is over.”

“You weren’t listening to the legend?” Gladio asked. That was a shame. It was a cool story.

“About the three witches?” Ignis smiled a little, which made his eyes crinkle. Adorable, Gladio thought again. “I know the story well. My family is responsible for maintaining the old Izunia house. It’s something of a tourist attraction.”

“Cool,” Gladio said. He meant it, but either Ignis didn’t believe him or was embarrassed, because he shrugged.

“Well, I had best get a move on. Have a good weekend, um . . . ” he faltered.

“Gladio,” he supplied. He could have said his full name, Gladiolus Amicitia, but he didn’t want Ignis calling him Gladiolus. Only his father called him Gladiolus.

Ignis smiled again, a bit embarrassed. “Well, have a good weekend, Gladio,” he amended.

Gladio shifted. Well, it was now or never. “Yeah, you, too. Ah, uh, here’s my number, if you ever wanna call.”

He took the scrap of paper he’d scribbled his name and phone number on and held it out to Ignis, who took it automatically. But hey, at least he took it.

Ignis looked blank for a moment, then he seemed to realize what Gladio meant. Colour flooded his face. “Oh, um,” he said.

Gladio smiled. “See ya around, Ignis.”

He made a hasty retreat, leaving Ignis sputtering behind him in the hallway.

He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

It was a crisp autumn day when he pushed open the school doors. 'Crisp' was a polite way of saying ‘wow, it’s damn cold out here.’ Gladio pulled the collar of his jacket up to protect his throat. He hadn’t thought he would need a scarf since Insomnia was milder this time of year, but clearly Tenebrae’s closeness to Niflheim meant that it got colder faster here. He’d have to make sure Iris dressed warm enough. She wasn’t used to this either.

Wait . . . he stopped on the sidewalk among swirling orange and brown leaves that were being blown off the nearby trees. Was this even the right way?

“Hey, which street is this?” he called to a college-aged blond he’d passed by.

The blond jumped, whirling around with his camera still in front of his face. “What?” he said.

Jumpy. Well, Gladio was a big guy. The blond was a fair bit shorter. Gladio made an effort to soften his tone. “Sorry, I just moved here. Which way to the train station?” The train station was one of his landmarks. He could find his way from there.

“Oh.” The blond lowered his camera, revealing blue eyes and a freckled face. He rattled off the directions, and Gladio waved in thanks and doubled back the way he came. He’d been going the wrong way after all.

He hadn’t gone more than a few steps when he heard the blond exclaim, “Oh, there you are, Noct! Wanna see the pictures I just took?”

Gladio glanced back in confusion. Other than him and the blond, there hadn’t been anybody else on the street. Nobody wanted to linger when it was cold out. Plus they had dinner to make and costumes to put on.

The blond crouched on the sidewalk, holding out his camera to a black cat. For all the world, it looked like he was showing the cat his pictures.

Cat people were weird. Gladio shook his head and kept walking.

It wasn’t long before he reached the turn off at the school and took the right one this time. He had thought he’d learned the route by now, but he must’ve been frazzled enough to lose the way after giving Ignis his number.

Speaking of Ignis, was that him up ahead?

It was. Gladio’s heart rate picked up. He hadn’t thought he’d see Ignis again until Monday, and his heart wasn’t ready. Even so, he might have called out to see if Ignis wanted to walk home together, but Ignis was already walking with people.

Friends, Gladio thought, until the bigger one punched Ignis’ backpack.

Gladio’s protective instinct flared and he sped up, eating the distance between him and Ignis. The bullies hadn’t noticed for the moment.

“Hey, four-eyes, didn’t you hear me?” one of them sneered, putting his face close to Ignis’ and almost spitting on his glasses. “I said, I want your watch.”

Ignis’ eyebrow barely twitched. He kept walking until the big one grabbed the loop on his backpack, forcing Ignis to a halt. “He said, give him your watch!” the big guy said, giving Ignis a shake.

Ignis sighed and fixed both the shorter and taller boys with a bored look. “That is not what he said. He said he _wanted_ my watch, which is a statement, not a request,” Ignis said in his most pompous voice. Astrals, Ignis had nerves of steel. Gladio liked him even more now. “I do not have to respond to statements. Now, unhand me at once.”

“Ohhhhh! ‘Unhand me at once’!” one said in a mocking falsetto. “You learn to talk like that at your weird museum job?”

“You think you’re better than us just cuz you skipped a grade?” The big guy was still holding on to Ignis’ backpack. “You ain’t so smart. You still believe in witches and curses and shit!”

“ _We_ don’t believe in witches,” the other said, and they both laughed.

Ignis’ patience was wearing thin. Gladio could tell from the severe look in those gorgeous green eyes. “I said to unhand me,” he said, trying to sound intimidating.

Beautiful as he was, he was kinda scrawny, so it didn’t have the desired effect. Both boys laughed louder.

Gladio finally reached the group. “You heard him. Let him go.”

“Yeah? Who's gonna make us?” the big one asked as they both turned.

“Hey, it’s the new kid!” They both laughed some more, which wasn’t the effect that Gladio’s bulk usually had on people. Even the bigger bully was shorter and less muscular than him.

“Stay out of this, new kid. You don’t even have any friends to protect you yet,” the other sneered.

Gladio raised his eyebrow, because in no way did he need protecting.

Ignis’ face had gone red when he realized that it was Gladio intervening. The big one noticed and let out a loud guffaw. “What’s that look for, nerd? Is the new kid your boyfriend?”

Ignis’ face went redder, delighting the bullies, who hadn’t managed to fluster him until now. “Ooooooh!” they both said, and Ignis’ eyes darted away.

Gladio wasn’t the violent type anymore, but he’d gotten in more than his share of fights in middle school after his mom died. He had the scars on his knuckles to prove it. Some of that old, angry, barely-a-teen Gladio came out when he saw that the bullies had managed to do some damage to the unflappable Ignis. And hell, he wasn’t going to have his crush on Ignis be something that Ignis was bullied over.

Before he really realized what he was doing, he grabbed the big guys backpack and lifted him off the ground. The bully was so surprised that he dropped Ignis on the way up.

Gladio’s other hand planted itself on his hip. “Have you seen my arms?” he demanded, which in retrospect was a bonehead thing to say. He didn’t want Ignis thinking he was just a muscle head. “Do I look like I need protection? I lift.” He dropped the guy. It was a fall of only a few inches, but the bully was so surprised that he landed on his butt. Gladio glared at him and his slack-jawed crony. “Beat it, before I beat you.” He jerked a thumb.

They took off, tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

Gladio didn’t bother watching them go. He and Ignis were staring awkwardly at each other.

“Can I, uh, walk you home?” Gladio offered. He didn’t think those idiots would be back, but it would be a good excuse to spend some time with Ignis.

But Ignis was shaking his head. “Oh, no, that’s quite all right,” he said, and Gladio’s heart sank. Crap. Those bullies had messed everything up. Or maybe he was weirded out by being hit on by a guy. Especially one as big as Gladio, who had just done something scary. “Thank you, though.”

Gladio didn’t argue. He watched Ignis go with a heavy heart, then sighed and headed on home.

The blond’s directions had long since left his mind, but he followed the signs to the train station and found his way home from there.

The second he opened his front door, Iris barrelled into his midsection. She was strong for an eight year old. A weaker teen would have been flung clear off the front step, but Gladio simply grunted. “You’re in costume already,” he remarked. He stole her pointy witch’s hat and examined the moogle pin she’d tacked to it, along with various buttons, lace, and shiny things she’d sewn to the black fabric. She’d gotten big into sewing a year ago and handmade her own Daemon’s Night costume. Her stitches were big and some seams were crooked, but from his limited knowledge, it looked like she’d done a good job. “Getting ahead of yourself, Iris? Trick-or-treating won’t start for a couple hours.”

“Give me my hat, Gladdy!” she said, pouting and reaching up with her small hands. Of course she had no hope of reaching it, so he laughed and put her hat on his own head.

“Nah,” he said.

She stamped her foot and followed him into the house. “I made you your own costume! You don’t need mine.”

The thought frightened him. She’d told him months ago she planned to make his costume, and he’d agreed in a moment of weakness. Since then, she’d been very secretive about it. No matter how he pestered her for hints, she wouldn’t even tell him what he was going to _be_ , let alone what the costume looked like.

He’d thrown himself entirely at the mercy of his eight-year-old sister’s sense of style.

He was a madman.

Sure, her costume suited her. But she was eight. If she tried to stick him in a plaid skirt with a matching black overdress like hers, pinned with little moogles and bows here and there, he was taking her trick-or-treating in jeans.

“You gonna be warm enough?” he asked her, noting the sleeves on the overdress were short and puffed. She was wearing tights and good boots, so he supposed her legs would be okay. But bare arms? Call it the big brother in him, but he was worried.

She was still trying to stretch up to steal the hat off his head. “I planned for this. I have longer sleeves that will clip on. I even made gloves!”

“Cool,” he said. She was a fashion genius. Maybe it’d be okay after all.

They made it to the kitchen, where Iris immediately turned to their father for help. “Daaaaaad,” she whined to Clarus. “Make Gladdy give my hat back.”

Clarus set down his mug of coffee and frowned at his son. “Gladiolus,” he began, and Gladio sighed and dropped the hat on Iris’ head so that it fell down over her eyes.

“I was just teasing her,” he said. He came over and stole the takeout menus that Clarus was looking at, taking them to the table for him and Iris to fight over. Clarus gave a token protest but let them do it. This had been an Amicitia family Daemon’s Night tradition ever since Gladio’s mom had died. Clarus was an abysmal cook, so the family subsisted on sandwiches, canned soup, and Clarus’ attempts at cooking dinner for the majority of the year.

On Daemon’s Night (and a fair few other nights, to be honest), they ordered takeout.

“Pancakes!” Iris said, slapping down the menu for the 24/7 breakfast place.

“No way,” Gladio said. “Remember last year? You’ll be tired in an hour if you don’t have some protein.” He countered with the menu for the local smokehouse. Ribs! Brisket! Barbecue! All kinds of deliciousness.

Iris made a face. “I can get sausages with my pancakes,” she argued.

“Yeah, two measly breakfast sausages to get you through hours of trick-or-treating. I don’t think so.”

Her brown eyes darted to Clarus, and Gladio stabbed a finger in her face. “Hey, this is between you and me. Calling in reinforcements is cheating.” Because while Clarus would enjoy meat more than pancakes, he had a soft spot for his youngest child that had gotten him banned from taking part in the takeout debate years ago. “You picked last year. It’s my turn.”

“Nuh-uh, that wasn’t the deal! Compromise, re-mem-ber?” she drew the word out.

Ugh. Little sisters.

But she gave up on making him agree to the pancake place. She drew her second choice. Her secret weapon.

Gladio glared at the menu, knowing that he’d lost. “You little brat.” She knew he couldn’t resist noodles. They were his favourite. “Fine. Noodles it is.”

Iris cheered, pleased with her victory. Gladio scribbled down his and Iris’ picks and passed the notepad and menu to Clarus so that he could make his own choice and place the order.

Okay. Time for the moment of truth. “So, what am I gonna be for Daemon’s Night?” he asked Iris.

Her face lit up and she clapped her hands. “Oh, you’re gonna love it! Come with me.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs to her room.

Both Amicitias were messy, but while Gladio had books and workout gear scattered around his room, Iris’ room was covered in plush toys, both store bought and hand sewn, bits and bobs of sewing paraphernalia, bolts of fabric, scraps of ribbon, and clothes. What they had in common, though, was that neither of them had managed to fully unpack yet, so there were stacks of cardboard boxes with their contents marked on top in black marker to navigate around.

Iris took him to the desk where her sewing machine was set up and picked up a folded stack of dark clothes. “The move put me behind, so I just finished it last night!” she said proudly. “Go try it on. I might have enough time to fix it if it doesn’t fit.”

He saw black fabric. Steel studs. That looked promising. Until Iris put a headband with fluffy brown ears on top of the pile. “Iris . . . ” he said, staring at it.

“You’re a werewolf!” she said. “They’re cool.”

Well, it was too late to back out. Maybe he could forget the lame ears at home at the last second so that Iris would think he was wearing them.

He trooped off to his own room to get changed. He had to admit the black leather pants with the studs were pretty cool. Had Iris really made them herself? That was awesome.

The shirt confused him though. It was tight fitting, black, and long sleeved. There just didn’t seem to be enough of it. He was still puzzling over it when Iris pounded on his door. “Gladdy! Are you done yet? I wanna see.”

Little miss impatient. It hadn’t even been five minutes. “I’m decent,” he said, indicating that she could come in, which she did not even a minute later. She beamed, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

“Oooh, you look so cool! I love it,” she said, almost squealing through her teeth. “Hurry, hurry, put the rest on. I wanna see the whole thing.”

“Iris, this shirt is too small,” he said, tugging on the hem, which stopped a couple inches before his last rib.

Iris glanced up with the ears in one hand and a clip-on tail in the other. “No, it’s supposed to be like that,” she giggled. “It’s a crop top.”

A what? “Iris, crop tops are for girls,” he argued but picked up the short sleeved leather jacket off the bed and slid it on top. It was also covered in steel studs. Pretty cool.

“Nuh-uh, all my boy bands are wearing them!”

He opened his mouth to argue that boy band fashion and normal people fashion were two different things then shut it with a sigh. No point. This was eight-year-old logic. “Fine. Whatever.”

He let her jam the ears on his head and clip the tail to the waistband of his jeans. “Awesome,” she said. “Wear your black boots, and it’ll be perfect. Come look in the mirror.”

She was pulling on his hand again, and he let her draw him out to the floor length mirror in the bathroom. He stopped, cocked his head, and stared.

Well, Ifrit’s flaming buttocks, his little sister was a fashion genius after all.

The crop top was snug enough to show off his pecs and cut off to show off his abs, which he was very proud of. The short sleeves of the leather jacket showed off the tight shirt fabric clinging to his arm muscles. And he twisted a little to the side to confirm that his ass looked fantastic in these pants.

If you ignored the ears and tail, he looked pretty damn badass.

Unable to contain herself any longer, Iris blurted, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” He plucked the witch hat off to ruffle her hair, then dropped it back on her head. “Thanks, Iris.”

She beamed, all teeth and shining brown eyes.

“Kids!” Clarus yelled from downstairs. “Food.”

There was nothing that got an Amicitia moving faster than food. They raced down the stairs. Gladio let Iris win so that he wouldn’t trip over her. She was short and had no qualms about darting in front of his longer legs, and he didn’t want either of them getting hurt.

Soon they were slurping up delicious, hot noodles. There was nothing better. Gladio didn’t even mind that Iris had won the takeout debate. Not for noodles.

“I have to go to this Daemon’s Night party for work,” Clarus told them over dinner, “but I’ll have my cell on me. Call me if there’s any problems.”

“Sure, Dad,” Gladio said, but he didn’t think there would be any. The only trouble Iris ever got into was punching pushy boys in the face, and it’s not like Gladio didn’t do that too.

“Yep,” Iris agreed.

When they finished eating, Clarus got dressed up and went out. Iris waved goodbye and then waited impatiently at the window. They didn’t want to go out too early or no one would be ready, but they were new here and weren’t sure when things would start. So Iris was the lookout for when other trick-or-treaters started appearing.

Gladio sat on the stairs with his textbook open in his lap, dutifully studying for the chapter four test on Monday. Better to do it now than leave it for Sunday night when he had a higher chance of forgetting.

“Gladdy, Gladdy! It’s time,” Iris said excitedly, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. She’d clipped on her long sleeves after dinner when there was no danger of dragging them in her food. Now she added the finishing touches to her costume: the little black gloves with bows on the back that served the dual functions of being cute and keeping her hands warm, and a moogle plushie she’d sewn herself which she attached to her hip via a shoulder strap across her chest like a purse.

She insisted that Gladio take a picture of her next to their Daemon’s Night decorations, which included pumpkins carved to look like Ifrit. Then she grabbed her trick-or-treat bag, which was sewn out of moogle patterned fabric, Gladio put on his boots, and they set off into the sunset.

The first few houses were uneventful. Gladio waited on the sidewalk while Iris dashed up to knock on the doors and get her candy. There were dozens of other kids out, more than Gladio had realized were in the neighbourhood. That was good. Iris would have some friends in no time. But for tonight, she had Gladio.

At the next house they ran into the morons of the day. It was the bullies from earlier demanding candy from the little kids streaming by and threatening to beat them up if they didn’t comply.

Gladio walked closer to his sister. He didn’t want to dampen Iris’ evening with a fight, so hopefully the idiots would recognize him and have the sense not to bother him or Iris.

No such luck.

“Hey, it’s a witch!” one of them said, snatching Iris’ hat and laughing. “What kind of dumb garbage did you put on it?” He examined the pins that Iris had sewn on and looked like he was going to rip the moogle off.

Iris yelped, surprised by the unexpected assault. She planted her feet and her hands curled into fists as she whirled on the bullies. “That’s mine! You give it back,” she demanded, reaching for her hat.

But just like she was too short to take it from Gladio, she was too short to take it from the bully too.

“Oooh, I’m so scared,” the other boy mocked, but didn’t get further before Gladio strode up and yanked the hat away, giving it back to Iris.

“Leave my sister alone,” he growled.

The bullies took one look at the fuzzy werewolf ears on Gladio’s head and burst out laughing. “What, did your little sister dress you?” one of them asked between gasps.

Before Gladio could reply, Iris’ face twisted in insult. “Gladdy looks awesome! I made his costume myself.”

“‘Gladdy’?” the other echoed. “You got a dorky nickname to go with your shitty outfit.”

Iris was a tough kid, but she wasn’t prepared for the insult to the costume she had painstakingly sewn for her brother. Her eyes filled with tears even as she tried to maintain a glare.

And that, Gladio decided, was the last straw. They hadn’t learned their lesson earlier, but they’d be learning it now. He grabbed the nearest bully by the front of his band t-shirt, lifted him clear off his feet, and slammed him against the wrought iron fence. “Care to try again?” he growled, bringing his face close to the bully’s so that he could see that Gladio meant business this time. There would be no more warnings.

The bully choked as the neck of his t-shirt constricted his airway. His buddy backed up rapidly, showing the palms of his hands in surrender. “H-hey, man, we were just joking!” he said.

“Well, I didn’t find your jokes funny. I don’t think my sister did, either. Did you, Iris?” he glanced back at Iris, who was still valiantly fighting tears.

“No, they were mean!” she said, swiping at her eyes.

“You heard the girl. Say you’re sorry.”

Once both bullies had choked out a sorry each, Gladio released the one he’d taken captive. He watched them trip over themselves trying to get away from him for the second time that day. Hopefully they had learned something this time, but they were pretty stupid, so he wasn’t gonna count on it.

He held his hand out to Iris, who was still sniffling. “You wanna keep going, or are you going to let a pair of boneheads ruin your night?” he asked her, tone gentle despite how insensitive the words might sound.

She wiped her eyes one last time and took his hand. “I want to keep going. My sack isn’t even half full yet.”

Gladio smiled. “There. I knew you were a tough girl,” he said, making her giggle.

They walked in silence to the next house, but when they got to the gate Iris’ hand tightened on his. “Hey, Gladdy?”

“What’s up?”

“You don’t think your costume is ‘shitty’, do you?”

All at once, Gladio wished he’d thumped the bullies a few times. He was trying to be better about the violence thing, but how dare they make Iris doubt herself. “You kidding?” he said. “I look badass.”

Iris grinned. “Badass.”

“Yeah. The ears might be a bit lame, though.”

“No, they’re cute!”

And _there_ was the little firecracker. Gladio laughed, and after a second Iris joined in. “Now move your butt,” he said, giving her a gentle nudge in the direction of the house. “Before I freeze to death standing around waiting for you.”

She skipped off to get her candy.

A few dozen houses later, or so it felt like to Gladio, they came to a massive house. Almost an estate, Gladio thought as they goggled at it. The gardens were dead and prepared for the winter, but he could tell that during spring and summer they would be bursting with flowers. The front walk was lined with pumpkins carved to look like Ifrit and various daemons from the old stories. The wraparound balcony out front was decorated and well-lit, inviting trick or treaters to come knock. Even the empty hanging baskets trailed rubber mindflayer tentacles.

Gladio and Iris glanced at each other and by silent agreement started down the path. Gladio stopped them halfway down the path to read the sign posted there. “Fenestala Manor,” he read out loud. “Ancestral home of the Fleuret family. After the deaths of Sylva Nox Fleuret and her children, Ravus and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, it was turned into a museum. Feel free to check out our Daemon’s Night decorations.”

“Oh,” Iris said. “Like in the story they told us about in school.”

“About the witches and the Izunia house?” Gladio asked. Iris nodded. “Yeah, I heard that story today too.”

She grabbed his arm. “Let’s check it out. C’mon, Gladdy, please?”

“Sure. It’s probably warmer in there, anyway.”

Not that he would admit to being cold, but Iris had started shivering half an hour ago, so he wanted to give her the chance to warm up a bit.

At the door they paused, uncertain whether to knock or not. The sign said it was a museum, but it still looked like a house where people might live. Then Gladio shrugged and pushed the door open. If he’d made the wrong guess, well, they’d apologize.

A bell tinkled overhead as he and Iris stepped into a wide marble foyer. “Woooooow,” Iris said, eyes lighting up as she took in the white marble that lined the floor and the two pillars on either side of them. A crystal chandelier hung overhead. When the Fleurets had lived here, it was probably lit with candles rather than the fluorescent bulbs it had today. To the right of the door was a carved oak table with a basket of candy. Gladio took a small handful for Iris and slipped it into Iris’ candy sack while she wandered around examining mirrors and lanterns and reading the little placards.

From a room to the left they could hear voices murmuring, but Gladio wasn’t in the mood for a crowd, and Iris seemed happy to explore.

“Welcome to Fenestala Manor,” a voice said, startling them both. “Ancestral home of the Fleurets. We have a party going on in the ballroom to your left, but we also have tours going through the house every hour on the hour- oh, it’s you.”

Gladio had already recognized Ignis coming down the sweeping staircase in front of them while reciting his tour guide spiel. The bullies had said that Ignis worked in a museum. So it was _this_ museum.

“Hey, Ignis,” Gladio said, a smile automatically rising on his face at the sight of his crush.

Iris glanced between them. “A friend?” she asked.

“We’re classmates,” Gladio explained.

That was good enough for Iris. She turned to Ignis with a beaming smile. “I love your costume! Are you a tonberry?” she asked.

After another look, Gladio realized that Iris was right. It was a simple enough costume, mostly comprised of a hooded cloak made of rough fabric like a potato sack with wide sleeves and leather slippers. Ignis had dressed his up a bit with embroidery at the sleeves and hem but had otherwise left it simple. He hadn’t bothered with the knife or lantern that usually came with tonberries.

“I am indeed,” Ignis said with a smile for Iris. “I made it myself. And I suppose you’re a witch?”

“Yep!” Proud, Iris twirled so that Ignis could see the full cuteness of her costume. “I made mine, too. I even made Gladdy’s!” And then Gladio was cast reluctantly into the spotlight.

Ignis’ green eyes settled on him, and Gladio was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was wearing a headband with fluffy wolf ears and had a tail tacked onto his butt. Not the kind of outfit he wanted to be seen in by his crush, even if the rest of it was cool.

“Well, it appears you’ve done a splendid job,” Ignis told Iris. “You both look wonderful.”

Gladio could not for the life of him tell if Ignis was serious or making fun of him. Ignis had such a calm, mild way of speaking that it was impossible to be certain. He stood in confusion while Iris beamed and chatted with Ignis.

“Daemon’s Night is my favourite holiday,” she told Ignis.

“Oh? Mine as well. But I thought people your age liked Ramuh’s Festival best?” Ignis smiled, bending slightly to talk to Iris, and damn if that didn’t make Gladio’s heart flutter. It was always nice to see that the dude you were crushing on wasn’t a jerk, but he hadn’t known Ignis could be sweet.

“Ramuh’s Festival is okay,” Iris said, “but I can get presents any day.” Spoiled brat, Gladio thought fondly. “Daemon’s Night is more fun. I love dressing up and hanging out with Gladdy and carving pumpkins and staying out late and-”

Gladio put a stop to this enormous run-on sentence with a gentle elbow to Iris’ ribs. “You working?” he asked, stealing the show from Iris, who pouted at being sidelined.

“I am, yes,” Ignis confirmed, straightening to look up at Gladio. He was just those couple inches shorter. “I’m supposed to be running tours of the Manor, but as you can see,” he gestured to the empty foyer, “it’s been a rather quiet night. The few people who have come in have either taken their candy and left or joined in the party in the ballroom.”

“Sounds boring,” Iris said.

Gladio agreed. “You could come hang out with us, if you want,” he found himself offering. Stupid. Ignis was at work. Even if it was busy, he couldn’t just ditch. Still, might as well finish what he started. “We’re both new. You could show us around.”

“I want to see the Izunia house,” Iris added. “The kids at school say it’s _super_ creepy.”

Gladio wasn’t sure an abandoned old house was a safe place to take Iris, but Ignis was nodding. “I’ll ask Aera. My boss,” he clarified to Gladio. “Her family, cousins to the Fleurets that used to live here, inherited Fenestala Manor after Sylva Nox Fleuret passed with no heirs. She’s keen on preserving the family history. Due to that, she also took ownership of the Izunia house when it went up for auction a number of years ago.”

“Really? I’m not sure I’d want to buy a house that it’s rumoured my relatives were murdered in,” Gladio commented.

Ignis shrugged. “She’s something of a history buff. She studied archaeology in university but ultimately decided her interests lie closer to home. I’d have to get the keys for the Izunia house from her, anyway. A moment, please.”

“All right. We’ll wait here, then,” Gladio said as Ignis disappeared into the ongoing Daemon’s Night party. When they were alone, he turned to Iris. “Are you sure you want to go there? Dad’ll kill me if you end up with nightmares.”

“I’ll be with you, so I won’t be scared,” Iris said. “You’d scare off any ghosts just like you did with those jerks earlier, right?”

“You bet,” he said.

It wasn’t long before Ignis returned, a small key ring in his hand. “Aera was fine with it,” he said before they could ask. “She’s delighted that you’re taking interest in the town’s history despite just moving here.”

“Yay! Let’s go,” Iris said, tugging on Gladio’s hand.

“All right, all right,” Gladio said. “Lead the way, Ignis.”

It had gotten darker while they were inside, which wasn’t surprising for this time of year. There were still a bunch of kids out, though, so they had to dodge throngs of costumed children as they made their way to the outskirts of town.

“Can I call you Iggy?” Iris asked, craning her head up to look at Ignis.

“I suppose,” he said, amused. “But why?”

“Gladdy,” she said, pointing up at Gladio with her free hand. She turned to point at Ignis. “Iggy.”

“Ah. You want us to match,” Ignis guessed.

“Yeah.”

“That’s fine, then,” Ignis said, and Gladio’s face went pink.

What was fine? Them matching? He didn’t understand what Ignis meant by that. It was too much to hope that he might feel the same way Gladio did. He hadn’t shown any sign of being interested in Gladio at all. Maybe he was just being nice to Iris. That would make sense. It was hard to be mean to Iris. Gladio could manage it, but he was her brother. He was immune to puppy-dog eyes.

Or mostly immune.

The expansion of the town over the years meant that the Izunia house wasn’t as far from civilization as it had been back when the legend supposedly took place. However, the suburbs suddenly gave way to untouched forest that surrounded the Izunia house. The road here was unpaved, so they walked along dirt and gravel. It was as though nobody dared to build too close to where the witches had died.

That was silly, of course. The true explanation was probably that the land around the house also belonged to Aera Fleuret, and she had chosen not to sell it or allow it to be developed.

Still, it added to the creepy vibe to see the Izunia house rise up out of the darkness of tangled branches. It was in better repair than Gladio had expected. Clearly, Aera had taken care to have it maintained despite the fact that it was seldom open for tours these days. “Strange things tend to happen here,” Ignis explained as they climbed onto the narrow porch and he slid his key into the lock. It was widely believed to be haunted.

Gladio couldn’t blame people for believing that, especially not when he followed Ignis inside. There was an oppressive atmosphere to the place that had nothing to do with the dust and the shadowy silhouettes lurking in corners.

Then Ignis flipped a light switch and the building was dimly illuminated. Both Gladio and Iris looked at him in surprise.

He stared back and shrugged. “Despite Aera’s passion for authenticity, she wasn’t willing to pass up on electricity or plumbing,” he explained. “Especially not if we were bringing people through for tours. She had it wired about ten years ago.”

Gladio definitely felt better with the place properly lit, though it didn’t quite dispel the atmosphere of the place.

Iris poked around, peeking into crates and examining the bookshelves. “What are these?” she asked, pointing to an array of jars whose labels had long since faded past legibility.

Ignis came over to stand next to her. “We’re not quite certain of the contents,” Ignis explained. “However, we know for certain that they are the original contents from when the witches lived here.”

“Heh,” Gladio said from the other side of the room, reading a placard on the wall that gave the estimated date that the house had been built and the history of restorations that had been done on it. “Must be well-preserved, then.”

“Indeed. We’re not sure what methods were used or whether they were done by the witches themselves or by whoever took ownership of this house later,” Ignis said. “To my knowledge, no one has ever opened the jars to take the contents for testing.”

“Fair. I bet they’d smell,” Gladio agreed. He noticed a large black candle on a stand, somehow sitting in the only ray of moonlight through the boarded up windows. “What are the boards for?” he asked. He went over to see if there was a placard near the candle explaining its presence.

“A temporary security measure,” Ignis said. “We put them up around Daemon’s Night every year to keep drunken hooligans from breaking in. We’ve had problems in the past. Be careful where you step,” he added to Iris, who was examining the cauldron in the centre of the room. “The floors are old. Aera plans to have them replaced early next year. In the meantime, however, there’s a danger of the boards breaking.”

Iris looked down at her feet. “I’ll be careful.” She peeked into the cauldron. “It’s empty.” She sounded almost disappointed.

“It’s the original cauldron. It was drained years ago,” Ignis said.

“I don’t see a spell book,” Iris said. She was really into this. At least there wasn’t any danger of her having nightmares, Gladio thought as he found the placard.

“It was never found, though it’s referenced often in the notes we found in one of the bedrooms upstairs. It’s believed to have been Ardyn’s room, though of course it’s impossible to know for certain.”

Gladio found the placard. He brushed dust off it with his sleeve until the letter became clearly visible. “’This is the black flame candle’,” he read aloud, “‘made from the fat of a hangman. Legend has it that on a full moon it can raise the spirits of the dead if lit by a virgin on Daemon’s Night.’ Creepy,” he decided, oddly delighted.

“It’s a full moon tonight,” Iris observed. “Is it often a full moon on Daemon’s Night?”

“No. I understand it to be a rare occurrence.” Ignis waited by the door, offering explanations as needed, but didn’t seem inclined to do any exploring himself. He was familiar with the place already.

Gladio was seized with curiosity. Would anything really happen if the candle was lit? Of course not. The men who’d lived here had been child predators or serial killers or both, but nobody really believed they were witches. It was just a fun way to dress up the town’s history, adding mystique and appeal to tourists with the added bonus of being a tale to frighten kids into compliance. There were similar urban legends in Insomnia where Gladio grew up.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. “Has anyone ever lit the candle before?”

Ignis was showing Iris a bunch of rusted instruments of such peculiar shape that their purpose could only be guessed at. “Not as far as I’m aware,” he said without looking up. “Though I suppose the vandals who break in now and then might have tested it out. It’s not supposed to work unless it’s Daemon’s Night _and_ a full moon, so I imagine nothing happened.” He glanced back and frowned. “I am superstitious enough to insist that you do not try it.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Gladio asked. The second he lit the lighter, a black cat hurtled out of the shadows and slammed into the middle of his chest. He was a big guy, but the force and surprise knocked him back a step. He yelled in surprise, and Iris jumped and shrieked.

Gladio shook the cat off. It landed with a thump and darted away like it thought he would kick it. He wasn’t the type to kick cats, even crazy ones that jumped out of nowhere to attack him.

The first thing he did was check on Iris. She was startled, her brown eyes wide in her pale face, but she was relaxing now that she realized it had just been a cat and not some Daemon’s Night monster. Ignis had his arms around her, having flung himself over to protect her at the sound of the disturbance. Now he slowly released her as he asked if she was all right.

Gods, he was perfect.

But Gladio wasn’t to be distracted from his curiosity by violent cats or perfect men.

He relit his lighter and set the flame to the candle wick. As the black flame rose above the wax, the lights went out.


	3. In Which the Dead Rise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to [BossGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossGoose/pseuds/BossGoose) for diligently proofreading my chapters for me.
> 
> My friend Charmkeeper just posted a fic based on Halloweentown for a Halloween Big Bang. [Check it out!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100105/chapters/66173752)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

The lights did not go out quietly, but with a dull roar.

“Oops,” Gladio heard himself say.

“What happened?” Ignis asked. He’d grabbed on to Iris again, and Gladio thought they must all be blinking in the dark while their eyes adjusted.

“A virgin lit the candle,” Iris said with severe disapproval in her voice.

Gladio opened his mouth to retort, but heavy bootsteps sounded on the porch. They all froze. No one other than Aera should know they were here. And it was so far out of the way that no one would come here by accident.

It was hard to explain what instinct had them all moving into hiding places. Gladio stepped behind the ratty curtains that framed the boarded-up windows while Ignis ushered Iris behind a stack of crates. An instant after they had ducked down out of sight, the door flung open with a bang and a flash of light.

“And we’re home,” a man’s voice sang. “Look, it’s almost as we left it. Though what are those unsightly boards doing on the windows?”

Gladio peered through a hole in the curtain to see the strangest looking man waltz into the house. He was wearing an array of mismatched scarves and a long robe, like a wizard from a fantasy movie. Long red-brown hair hung wild around his face. From his dress, he really looked like he’d stepped out of a movie.

Following in his wake was a young blond man with sharp eyes and a young boy, probably Iris’ age. “We can’t know how long we’ve been away,” the young man said, looking around and frowning. “We’re lucky the house is still intact.”

The child was looking around, frowning even deeper than the blond man. Only the first man seemed cheerful. He was going through the jars on the shelf. “Still good,” he mused. “The miracles continue.”

“Father,” the boy said, tugging on the blond man’s clothes. “Father, Prompto isn’t here. Where is Prompto?”

“Of course, he’s not here,” the man said with a sniff. “The traitorous wretch left us to die. He didn’t die with us, therefore he was not resurrected by our spell. And good riddance! I have no use for disloyal sons.”

“Now, Verstael,” the first man sighed. “You mustn’t be so harsh. Prompto must have been frightened by the mob and run off. It’s only natural for Loqi to miss his brother.”

“Don’t tell me how to raise my sons, Ardyn!” Verstael snapped. “I’ll not mourn for a traitor.”

Ardyn didn’t bother to reply. He continued to poke around the house until Verstael, in annoyance, burst out, “what in Ifrit’s name are you looking for?”

“Well, our spell posited that we must be raised by a virgin on Daemon’s Night during a full moon, did it not?” Ardyn said mildly.

“Yes, yes,” Verstael said.

“And they must light the candle?” Ardyn pointed to the black flame candle, it’s dark flame casting strange purple shadows on the walls.

“Yes, I know how it works!”

“Well, dear Verstael, I must ask you: Who lit the candle?”

Verstael opened his mouth, then froze. His eyes narrowed, then darted to the shadowy corners of the house as though expecting them to materialize there. “I see. We have guests,” he said.

Gladio did not like the look of the cruel smirk that twisted his face.

“Indeed. We must make our guests welcome. Come out, my dears!” Ardyn spun around and held his hands out wide. Gladio did not leave his hiding spot. Neither did Ignis and Iris.

When there was no response, Ardyn pouted. “I suppose it was too much to hope that would work,” he sighed. “New plan. Loqi! Hide and seek. Find our guests, would you? I’ll make tea.”

To Gladio’s disbelief, Ardyn went to the ancient stove and pulled down a pot. “What’s this?” he wondered, touching the tap. He twisted one in curiosity and stared in wonder as water gushed out of the faucet. “How handy!” he filled the pot with water and set it on the stove, lighting the burner with an open hand.

Gladio blinked. Ardyn had no match or lighter, and the stove had not been replaced. It didn’t have a lighting mechanism.

But it was impossible. Ardyn couldn’t actually be a witch.

Gladio was so focused on Ardyn that he didn’t pay attention to what the others were doing until Iris squealed.

His protective instinct was triggered so fast that he was out from behind the curtains before he could think about the potential consequences. The witches didn’t see him because they were looking in the other direction where Loqi was hauling Iris out from behind the crates.

“Father, I found a girl!” he announced proudly, then frowned and leaned away as Iris clawed at him. “A _human_ girl, despite her attempt to masquerade as one of us.”

Ignis came out of hiding to yank Loqi’s hands off Iris. “Keep your hands off of her.”

He looked so fierce, so stern, that Gladio found himself liking him more. Gladio’s crush was defending his little sister.

But there were more important things than crushes to deal with.

Ardyn held out a hand to Ignis, who had stepped between Iris and the witches, one arm raised to keep her behind him. In the palm of Ardyn’s hand a green light built. Small at first, then larger and brighter.

Gladio didn’t know what that was meant to do, but he assumed it wouldn’t be good for Ignis. He grabbed a giant spoon off the wall and flung it. The spoon hit Verstael in the back, knocking him forward onto his knees with a grunt of pain. Loqi yelled in surprise, tracking the spoon’s trajectory from Verstael to Gladio.

“Uncle Ardyn, there’s another one!” he shouted.

Ardyn turned, green light still in hand. Then the green light was rushing at Gladio. He raised his arms over his face to protect it, but it was futile. Intense pain sent him to his knees. Gods, it felt like he was burning. Instinct had him try to roll on the floor to put the fire out, but his twitching muscles would not comply.

Someone was screaming. Was it him?

Was it Iris?

If they hurt Iris-

Then the pain was gone.

It was not a gradual fade. Not like when you twisted your ankle during PE and had to walk it off. No. It was there, then it was gone. His muscles spasmed as his brain figured out that the pain had stopped.

He pushed himself up on his elbows to see a strange scene.

There was a cat on Ardyn’s head. Ardyn’s hat was on the floor, suggesting that the cat had knocked it down when it pounced. Ardyn was cursing and trying to dislodge the cat while it swiped at Ardyn’s face, leaving bloody lines across his forehead. Verstael was dancing around Ardyn, hands extended, trying to catch the cat, but Ardyn’s flailing prevented him from getting close.

Loqi, open-mouthed, was watching the spectacle and not paying attention to Iris or Ignis.

Now would be a good time to run.

Gladio wasn’t the only one to think so.

“Outta the way, Noct!”

The black cat leaped from Ardyn’s head and darted across the floor out of Gladio’s line of sight. The witches were still confused when a ball of light fell in their midst. It expanded with a bang. The room filled with light and smoke. The smoke triggered the emergency sprinklers, which began to rain tepid, stinking water.

The witches must have never experienced sprinklers before. They screamed, and Loqi flung himself across the room toward Verstael.

“It rains indoors!”

“Raining death. Take cover!”

Gladio stared, baffled, and then the black cat was at his feet, staring up at him with furious eyes of midnight blue. “Quit standing around. Come on, out the back door!”

What.

The cat.

The cat talked.

“Get a move on,” the cat said. The cat was exasperated, Gladio’s mind numbly grasped. Then sharp claws were digging into his ankle, spurring him forward.

“I’m moving, I’m moving!”

There was no choice but to follow the cat through the smoke, which still flashed with popping sounds. Gladio couldn’t see much of anything through it, but the cat seemed to know where it was going.

The cat took him through a narrow hallway where the smoke was thinner. Up ahead, he could see a blond guy ushering Ignis out the back door, Ignis’ arm wrapped protectively around Iris’ shoulders.

“But Gladdy!” Iris protested.

“I’m coming, Iris!” Gladio called after them. Yes, get Iris out of here. Don’t stall on his account.

Once they were outside, he was able to catch up. The cat darted ahead to run next to the blond guy, who took the lead. Behind them, the witches were figuring out that the sprinkler water was not dangerous.

“It’s just water!”

“A child’s trick. Quick! Where did they go?”

“Out the back door, Father.”

“Incoming!” The blond man crouched in the road and pulled up a manhole cover.

They gathered around him like idiots with no idea what else to do. “Where does that lead?” Iris asked.

“The sewer. Where else?” That was the cat. From the way Iris’ eyes got round, the cat talking wasn’t a personal hallucination of Gladio’s.

When a talking cat told you to get your ass in the sewer on Daemon’s Night while you were being pursued by witches, there seemed to be little option but to obey.

Ignis went first, descending down into the dark without comment. Gladio had Iris go next, reasoning that it was safer for her down there than out here. The witches could come out at any moment. The blond guy licked his bottom lip and kept his eyes on the house, motioning for Gladio to go next without looking at him.

Gladio lowered himself slowly through the manhole, climbing down the ladder quickly. When he was halfway down, a warm weight landed on his shoulder. He flinched with surprise, but it was just the cat hitching a ride.

He thought the cat would hop down once Gladio had his feet on solid ground, but he seemed to like his perch. Iris waited at the bottom of the ladder and held her hand out for Gladio to take, which he did. She was a tough kid, but she was scared.

“Does it hurt?” she asked Gladio. He could just make out that her lower lip was trembling in the scant light through the manhole cover.

“Not anymore.” He ruffled her hair.

Then the light cut out. Iris’ fingers tightened on his. If not for the sound of the blond guy’s boots on the ladder, Gladio would have thought it was the witches cutting out the light again.

Once the blond guy reached the bottom, he conjured a small ball of light in his palm. Unlike Ardyn’s magic, his was a shimmering blue.

“Everybody here?” he asked, checking faces. “Great.” He nodded to himself, satisfied that everyone was accounted for. “I’m just gonna squeak by you.”

He worked his way to the front of the line to lead the way.

“And who are you?” Ignis fell into step behind him, eager to get to the heart of the matter, while Gladio and Iris brought up the rear with the cat, who Iris was trying to coax off Gladio’s shoulder into her arms.

The cat wasn’t interested, but it was putting a small smile on Iris’ face, so Gladio didn’t tell her off.

“I’m Prompto. That’s Noctis.” He jerked his thumb back at the cat on Noctis’ shoulder. His light wavered as they walked, only illuminating a few steps ahead. To be honest, Gladio was grateful for that. He didn’t want to see the sewer in detail. Smelling it was bad enough.

That caught Ignis’ interest. “Not the same Prompto and Noctis from the legend, surely?” He glanced between them, intrigued.

“The very same,” Noctis replied in a bored tone.

Prompto scratched the back of his neck with the hand that didn’t hold the light. “Heh, yeah. It’s a long story. We’ve mostly stuck around the area, trying to keep people from lighting the candle.”

“Did pretty good, up ‘til now,” Noctis said.

“Yes, it does seem like that cat is well out of the bag, now,” Ignis said, glancing back at Gladio.

Shame and awkwardness settled like an added weight on Gladio’s shoulders. It didn’t feel right to apologize. “I’ll help fix it?”

The cat snorted.

“Great,” Prompto said. “Cuz, uh, you’re not gonna have a choice.”

“Is that a threat?” There was steel in Ignis’ voice.

Now was an inappropriate time to find that hot.

“Uhhhh, not exactly?” Prompto looked at Noctis.

Noctis sighed and finally hopped down. Once on the ground, he limped a little. Gladio frowned. Had he been injured at the Izunia house? Gladio hadn’t seen the cat take any hits.

Noctis pawed at Prompto’s pant leg, and Prompto bent to scoop him up. Noctis settled against Prompto’s chest, observing the rest of the group over Prompto’s shoulder.

“You lit the candle,” he explained, “and there’s a little girl with you. Ardyn’s group is definitely coming after you.”

“Yeah, and my father holds grudges like no one’s business,” Prompto sighed. “So, yeah. He’ll be looking for you. Gotta get revenge and all that.”

Gladio didn’t like the sound of revenge. Then the rest of Prompto’s words hit his brain.

Father.

Loqi had asked for Prompto and called Verstael father.

Now that Gladio was looking, Prompto bore a striking resemblance to Verstael.

Damn. The witches would definitely be coming after Prompto. He had betrayed his own family to help them.

“You must be in jeopardy as well,” Ignis remarked, echoing Gladio’s thoughts, “now that they know you’re still around.”

“Yeah.” Prompto frowned, then shrugged. “But I always knew that would happen someday. We could only prevent it for so long, right Noct?”

“Not for lack of trying.” Noct sent Gladio a dark look.

Gladio winced. Prompto didn’t seem to be holding a grudge about Gladio resurrecting the witches, but Noctis definitely was.

“So you’re a witch, then?” Iris asked, having kept quiet while the guys had the conversation over her head.

“Yeah.”

“Cool!”

Prompto’s shoulders hunched, embarrassed, but his light remained steady.

“Pardon me for asking, Prompto,” Ignis began, “but how are you still alive? I presume Noctis’ longevity has to do with the spell that was cast on him.”

“Yeah. Wanted me to live and suffer and all that,” Noctis said.

Prompto didn’t look back. The footing here was precarious, and they all had to step carefully to keep from slipping into the sewage that ran alongside the narrow walkway. “Oh, well.” He sighed. “Witches live long lives anyway, but the life energy that my dad sucked out of Luna added onto that and kept me younger longer. It’ll catch up to me eventually, but . . . not now.”

The topic made him uncomfortable. Ignis could tell, too, because he didn’t ask Prompto any more questions.

They walked in silence, which was eventually broken by Noctis. “Prom, turnoff!”

“Oh, right, right.” Prompto reversed and edged through a narrow side tunnel.

Ignis took in the slimey walls and his nose crinkled in disgust. He had no choice but to follow, so he carefully eased into the gap. He was holding his breath and trying not to brush against either wall without success.

Gladio already knew he would be covered in wall slime once it was his turn. He was all-around bigger than Ignis.

“You’re up.” He nudged Iris over. She clung to his hand a second longer, then let go and disappeared through the gap.

Now it was Gladio’s turn to travel through slime city.

It was too close for comfort, but he could just barely fit through. He inched along, trying to suck in his bare belly to keep it from scraping the concrete. He breathed a sigh of relief once he was through and found the others waiting for him.

“I assume you have a destination in mind?” Ignis asked what Gladio hadn’t thought to.

“Yep. We go up here.” Prompto stopped in front of a ladder.

“It’ll take us to the street outside the cemetery,” Noctis explained.

Iris had finally stopped shaking. Now her eyes grew wide again. “You mean a _graveyard?_ ” She turned to Gladio. “Gladdy! One of the boys in my class says ghosts come out of the graves on Daemon’s Night.”

Gladio patted her hair to comfort her. “I’m sure that’s not true.” He actually wasn’t sure at all. He wasn’t sure of anything anymore, so he stared over Iris’ head at Prompto and Noctis, who would know more than him about spooky stuff.

“Nah. Ghosts don’t rise on their own,” Prompto, already up the ladder and wiggling the manhole cover loose, confirmed. “You gotta summon them with a spell.”

“See?” he patted Iris’ shoulder. “Now follow Ignis.”

Ignis was halfway up the ladder after Prompto. Iris sniffled and followed him with Gladio following close behind in case she slipped. If she fell, explaining to their dad that she hurt herself in the sewer would just raise questions that Clarus wouldn’t believe the answers to.

They climbed out of the manhole cover onto a dimly-lit street. True to Noctis’ word, to the right were the wrought iron gates to the cemetery, though ivy grew so thick over the sign that it was impossible to make out the name.

Noctis hopped off Prompto’s shoulder and led the way through the gates. He could just slip his body through two of the iron rails, but the gates were wrapped with a chain and padlock so that the others had to climb over. Gladio lifted Iris up and passed her to Ignis, who stood on the other side, before following.

“Why are we in a graveyard, exactly?” he wanted to know. Then he realized that Prompto wasn’t with them. He looked back to see Prompto still standing by the manhole cover. “Aren’t you coming?” he called.

Prompto smiled and shook his head. With a little shrug, he vanished down a side street.

“Witches can’t set foot on consecrated ground,” Noctis said. Gladio hadn’t noticed him settle next to Gladio’s feet. He watched Prompto go. “You’ll be safer here. But Prompto can’t come with us.”

Because Prompto was a witch. Damn.

“Will he be okay?” Iris asked.

“I hope so.” Noctis shook himself and said, “Come.”

It was hard to keep track of a black cat in the dark cemetery. There was nothing but the moon to light the way. They didn’t have flashlights and no longer had Prompto to cast a light with his spells. Several times they lost Noctis among the shadows, and he had to return for them.

Gladio wasn’t sure where Noctis was taking them, but he didn’t expect him to stop at a tombstone. But it wasn’t a random tombstone. Gladio recognized the name.

 _Ravus Nox Fleuret_.

“Lunafreya is buried here as well,” Ignis said. He caught Gladio’s eye and gestured at the headstone next to Ravus’.

_Lunafreya Nox Fleuret._

Just like in the story, Ravus had been sixteen and Lunafreya twelve when they died.

Iris’ hand slipped back into Gladio’s and squeezed. When Gladio looked down at her, she didn’t look frightened. Just sad.

He squeezed back.

Ignis’ face was set. He knelt to rest a hand gently on Lunafreya’s headstone. “Two victims too many,” he sighed. “Is there any way to stop them?”

He was addressing Noctis, and it was clear that he meant the witches. Ignis would tolerate stupid teenage bullies messing with him. He would not tolerate evil witches targeting the town’s children. _His_ town’s children.

Noctis sat next to Ignis on the long grass. To them, these were just names from a story. To Noctis, they were people he had known. His friends from a lifetime ago. Gladio couldn’t imagine how he felt looking at their headstones.

“According to what Prompto read in his father’s spellbook, the spell that brought them back will only last for tonight,” Noctis said. Just as Gladio was thinking that the problem sounded like it would solve itself, Noctis continued. “But if they get their hands on a child and make the same potion they used Luna for, their lives will be fully restored.”

“So we have to protect all the kids in town?” Gladio asked, his heart sinking. That seemed like an impossible endeavour.

“Until sunrise,” Noctis confirmed.

They stood in silence as the full weight of this task settled over them. “The good news is that the potion is in the spell book, and Prompto has that.” Noctis stood up and padded further into the cemetery. “If we keep it away from them, no potion.”

“That sounds hard,” Iris said with a frown. “Won’t they go after Prompto if he has the book?”

“Our hope is that they’ll think you stole it,” Noctis replied without looking back.

Shocked, Gladio started after him. “Wait, what? You _want_ them to come after us?”

“Of course not.” Noctis paused on a little hill. He couldn’t frown at Gladio, but cat faces were good at disapproving looks. “But your sister is young enough to use for their potion. They would come after you anyway.”

Gladio stepped closer to Iris. They would get Iris over his dead body. No witch was going to set so much as a finger on his little sister.

He thought about Ravus and Lunafreya, whose graves were behind them.

The witches really had gotten Lunafreya over her brother’s dead body.

As if sensing his thoughts, Noctis quietly said, “I failed Ravus and Lunafreya. I won’t fail this time.”

Ignis’ shoes crunched leaves underfoot as he went to crouch beside Noctis. He placed a hand on Noctis’ head. “I will do my utmost best to assist you,” he promised.

Noctis’ tail swished and he ducked his head, embarrassed. “Yeah, thanks,” he muttered.

It was sweet, but it didn’t last for long.

“There they are!” Verstael’s harsh voice shouted.

They all jerked and looked around but saw nothing. Gladio’s heart hammered. He gathered Iris close to him. Like hell he would let them have his sister. But where were they? Noctis had said that witches couldn’t step on the hallowed ground of the cemetery.

“Hello, children! Nice night, isn’t it?”

He looked up.

Ardyn soared overhead, smirk fully in place. He was seated on an upright vacuum, the cord drifting behind him like the tail of a kite. That is, until he stopped and the cord kept moving. The plug whipped toward Gladio, who ducked.

The cord swung lazily as it used the last of its momentum. Gladio straightened with caution. He didn’t want to lose an eye to a damn vacuum cleaner cord.

Ardyn was frowning. “Terribly sorry about that,” he said with an expressive shrug. “I’ve never flown one of these contraptions before. But it’s so much more stylish than the brooms you have these days. Look at that hideous thing Verstael flies upon!”

Verstael scowled as Ardyn insulted his mode of transportation. He was flying on a standard plastic broom with a metal handle. Loqi brought up the rear on a mop.

It would have been funny if they weren’t about to abduct Iris.

Verstael wasn’t inclined toward niceties. “Where is my spell book?” he snarled at them.

Gladio almost told him they didn’t have it on kneejerk. Ignis foresaw this and elbowed them in the ribs. He held up the bag he’d been lugging around since he’d left Fenestala Manor. “Try and take it from me!” he said.

This didn’t seem the wisest choice, but Ignis had made a promise to Noctis, and Gladio could see that he intended to keep it.

Ardyn flew at Ignis, which was an inconvenient loophole to the whole ‘consecrated ground’ thing.

The cord whipped by Gladio’s face again. This time he grabbed it and gave it a hard yank, stopping Ardyn’s progress and almost unseating him.

“Stop that!” Ardyn complained, like Gladio was gonna listen.

Gladio pulled harder, trying to shake him off. He wasn’t sure what would happen if Ardyn fell off and hit the ground of the cemetery, but he wanted to see it. Maybe he’d burst into flames or something.

“Gladdy!” Iris’ scream had him whirling around, letting go of the cord. Ardyn had been straining against Gladio’s hold. When Gladio let go, he was sent rocketing upward with a cry of surprise.

It was Loqi pestering Iris. He had started by swooping at her head, herding her away from Gladio in her attempts to avoid him. Now he had gotten hold of the back of her costume and was dragging her upward. Her face was white with fear as her feet left the ground.

He left Ignis throwing rocks at Verstael with ruthless accuracy behind him and charged at Loqi.

Despite being a witch resurrected from the dead, Loqi was a kid who was frightened at the sight of a large teenager rushing at him. He dropped Iris and flew out of reach of Gladio’s grasping hands.

Hovering just out of reach, Loqi tried to recover his dignity. He righted himself on the mop and straightened his clothes, which were dishevelled from his hasty retreat. He jeered down at them. “You think you’re safe just because you’ve found hallowed ground? We’ll get you, and your _precious_ little sister will be turned into soup to sustain our life. You- EEP!”

Loqi wasn’t as far out of reach as he’d thought. Gladio was able to jump up and grab his leg. As his body tilted sideways, Loqi squealed and clung to the mop handle he was seated on. His cockiness vanished, and he shrieked for his father. “Father, Father, help me! I don’t want to burn.”

He looked around when no help was forthcoming and realized that Verstael and Ardyn had been forced to retreat. Ignis was throwing anything he could reach—rocks, paving stones, hunks of wood, clods of dirt. Verstael was sporting several bruises, and those were only the visible ones on his face. Gladio was sure there were more hidden under Verstael’s sleeves from raising his arms to defend himself.

Ardyn had taken a clump of dirt to the eyes and was flying blind, crashing into trees as he randomly jerked upward, afraid of the prospect of touching the ground.

Loqi was on his own. In a panic, he flew higher, taking Gladio with him. “Gladdy!” Iris cried from below him.

“You have to let go!” Noctis warned.

Shit. Noctis was right. If he held on too long, he would be too high off the ground to survive a fall. His weight wasn’t hindering Loqi as much as he’d thought it would, and he couldn’t get Loqi off the mop.

He let go. He dropped six feet to the ground as Iris screamed. Thank the Astrals for all the martial arts lessons he’d taken over the years that taught him how to fall. He rolled as he hit the dirt. There was dirt in his ears and leaves in his hair when he came to a halt, but he wasn’t badly hurt.

Gladio scrambled to his feet before he had recovered from the fall. Iris. Where was Iris?

There she was, rushing into his arms. The tight knot of panic loosened as he wrapped his arms around her. She was still safe for now.

“Gladdy, are you okay?” she asked, pulling away to check him over for injuries. Her hands were brisk as they pressed firmly against his arms, his chest, his stomach, watching for flinches or any sign of blood.

Gladio ignored her checkup. He was safe. Iris was safe. What about Ignis?

Ignis didn’t need his concern. He drove the witches further back with his projectiles. Loqi circled above screaming insults, but he didn’t dare get close.

“Fall back!” Ignis ordered, somehow knowing he had Gladio’s attention without turning around. “We must take cover.”

“This way,” Noctis said, darting off.

Both Noctis and Ignis knew the area better than Gladio and Iris, so Gladio had to trust them to lead the group to safety. He scooped Iris into his arms and ran after the others. She wrapped her arms around his neck and peered over her shoulder.

“They’re following us,” she warned.

“Let them,” Ignis said. “They’ve learned better than to get too close.”

Gladio risked a glance over his shoulder and nearly tripped over a memorial offering of flowers. True to Ignis’ word, the witches were staying well back while keeping the group in sight.

“In here.” Noctis waited by the entrance of a small building. It was ornate despite its dilapidated state, so it couldn’t be a shed. When Gladio obeyed and followed Ignis inside, he found a stone casket raised in the centre, covered with dead flowers.

“This is a tomb,” he said, staring at it.

“You mean there’s a body in there?” Iris sounded equal parts repulsed and fascinated. Kids were weird, Gladio thought as he set her down.

Ignis was a stickler for correctness. “Not so much a body, given how long it’s been here,” he said as he went to peer out the door. He still had a rock clenched in his hand as if he couldn’t bear to part with even so small a weapon. “This is the tomb of the first mayor. His remains would be skeletal by now.”

“Cool,” Iris said.

“Don’t you open that,” Gladio warned as she drifted closer to the casket. She rolled her eyes and didn’t respond. Gladio joined Ignis and Noctis at the door of the tomb and peered out. The witches were circling nearby, but the structure protected the group from aerial attacks, and they couldn’t land to come through the door. Safe.

Gladio could finally voice his thoughts. “You were incredible out there,” he told Ignis, ignoring Noctis pretending to gag at his feet. “How did you learn to throw like that? You play baseball or something?”

Was it his imagination, or did Ignis’ cheeks get pinker? It might be wishful thinking, but damn Gladio hoped it was real. “Ah, well, when you are a young child with devoted historians for parents and have not yet become enraptured by dusty old books, you must entertain yourself at the archives somehow,” he explained as though this was embarrassing rather than fascinating. “So I’d go out behind the building and throw rocks to try and knock acorns off the trees. I got quite skillful, I must say. I didn’t realize I could still do it.”

“That’s amazing,” Gladio said, and meant it. He glanced down at Noctis. “You coughing up a hairball or something?”

Noctis stopped the gagging noises and glared up at him. “Could you stop flirting and be serious? There are still witches out there who want to kill you.”

“I thought we were safe,” Ignis said with a frown. “They can’t touch us in here.”

“They can’t, no,” Noctis said. He was still staring at the witches with narrowed eyes.

Ignis looked down. “I do not like how you said that.”.

Gladio had been wondering what it meant that Ignis didn’t deny the flirting and missed Noctis’ tone. “What?”

The witches were far enough away to be almost out of sight. What were they doing out there?

Gladio did not like the answer.

The angle of the wind carried Ardyn’s voice toward them as his voice lilted in a spell.

_“Faithful brother long since dead,  
Deep asleep in thy wormy bed.  
Wiggle thy toes, open thine eyes,  
Twist thy fingers toward the sky.  
Life is sweet.  
Be not too shy.  
On they feet  
so sayeth I!”_

“What?” Gladio asked as the earth began to shudder.

Noctis’ fur was standing up. With rage, Gladio realized a second later. “That bastard,” Noctis growled. “How dare he drag Ravus into this.”

Gladio was about to ask what the hell was going on for a third time when an arm plunged out of the earth beneath the witches. He stared open-mouthed as the arm was followed by a torso sitting bolt upright, scattering earth and grass as it pulled free of the grave.

“Well,” Ignis said after a beat of horrified silence. “That’s a can of worms.”

Gladio turned disbelieving eyes on him. “Did you just . . . ?”

“Not so much a can as a sack,” Iris replied, having abandoned her exploration of the tomb to see what all the fuss was about. “A _big_ sack.”

“I can’t believe you people,” Noctis muttered. In a louder voice, he said, “Time to run!”

Gladio scooped Iris back into his arms as the witches berated Ravus behind them.

“Get up!”

“Out of that ditch. Faster, you useless heap of meat! Get those children!”

“Father, he smells horrid.”

“Shut up, Loqi.”

Once again, Noctis was in the lead. He took them across a few more meters of graveyard and then pawed at a stone slab that looked like just another grave marker to Gladio. “You, big guy. Lift this,” he ordered.

Gladio set Iris down and dug his fingers under the sides of the slab, wrenching it upward. Underneath was an unlit staircase carved out of stone. Gladio set the slab to the side and was about to ask where this was supposed to lead, but Noctis was already jumping down into the dark. Iris followed, and Ravus’ shambling steps were getting closer.

No time for questions. Ignis was disappearing down the stairs. Gladio grimaced and followed, pausing long enough to ease the stone slab back over the entrance. Hopefully that would slow Ravus down.

There was no Prompto to light the way for them, so they were left to stumble in the dark. “I don’t remember seeing this tunnel on any town maps,” Ignis remarked in the dark, then tripped.

Gladio caught his arm and righted him, receiving mumbled thanks in reply.

“The old crypt. It leads to the sewer,” Noctis replied.

Gladio put his hand on the wall to guide him and regretted it. The wall was damp and coated in something thick and sticky. From the sounds of disgust in front of him, he wasn’t the only one to have this idea.

Disgusting or not, it kept him grounded, so he kept his hand on the wall.

“The sewer again?” Iris complained.

The stone slab creaked out of the way behind them. Ravus was coming.

They picked up the pace, which led to more stumbling and bumping into each other.

Gladio smelled Ravus an instant before hands seized him from behind. He yelled and struck out, and his fist slammed into something soft and fleshy full of small, wiggling things.

He nearly puked, but Ravus was knocked back.

Then they were all running and screaming into the sewer. Gladio’s foot splashed in fetid water but he didn’t stop to ponder how disgusting that was. Then Noctis was urging them up a ladder onto a dimly lit street.

Gladio glanced around to make sure everyone was accounted for even as he followed Noctis’ sleek shape. There was Ignis holding tightly to Iris’ arm. He must have been guiding her in the dark and didn’t think to let go now that they were out of the sewer.

Ravus hauled himself painstakingly up after them, but a bus cut between them and him. He didn’t see them dart down a side street, so when the witches caught up, he couldn’t answer their questions.

“Where did he go, boy?” Ardyn asked. There was an unintelligible grunt in reply.

Verstael didn’t even bother to be pleasant. “You will find them, you useless farm for maggots,” he snarled, “And you will bring me my book. Go! No, don’t stare at me, go!”

“Perhaps his brain has rotted too much for him to understand,” Ardyn suggested, and then their voices faded in the distance.

They took too many turns for Gladio to keep track of even if he were familiar enough with the town to recognize streets in the dark. Then they were on a main street, and Gladio recognized the high school up ahead.

Noctis led them up the steps to the front door, which was locked when Ignis tested the handle. Because of course it was. What time was it, anyway? Not so late that there weren’t still children out trick-or-treating, which meant it was still long before sunrise.

Lasting that long was starting to seem more impossible by the minute.

The door opened. It was Prompto peering out at them with worry. “Noct!” he said as Noctis darted through the door. The others followed, and the door clanged shut behind them. Prompto fussed over Noctis. “What’s all over you?”

“I was in the sewer. What do you expect?” Noctis grumbled, embarrassed by the attention. But he let Prompto pick him up to brush gunk from his fur.

“So, uh, time for Plan B?” Prompto asked, looking over their bedraggled group.

“Yeah,” Noct sighed. “It’s a risky one. You got the book?”

“Yep. Right here.” Prompto reached into a satchel at his hip and pulled out the most sinister looking book Gladio had ever seen. It was bound in supple, glossy green leather that seemed almost alive in a disturbing way. The eyeball on the spine that glared at him as Prompto showed the book did not reassure Gladio. He almost expected it to start talking. His night already had a talking cat; why not a talking book?

But Verstael's spell book remained silent. There weren’t even words on the cover or the spine.

“Fascinating,” Ignis said, peering at it. It didn’t seem to put him off the way it did Gladio. “Legend has it the spell book is bound in human skin. Is that true?”

“Uh, yeah,” Prompto said. “Some merchant guy who cheated my father with poor quality Dolce flesh a century or so before I was born. Father’s a ‘don’t get mad, get even’ kind of guy.”

“Yeah, he’s a real charmer,” Noct said with dripping sarcasm.

Prompto grinned, but Gladio didn’t see how this was funny. They were on the receiving end of Verstael's ire, and he didn’t want his skin binding Verstael's next book.

“So, Plan B is...?” he said, hoping to get them back on track. He had a sister to protect, and Ardyn had already shown that he didn’t need Verstael’s book to perform some spells. After all, he’d already attacked Gladio and done whatever the hell to Ravus that had him chasing them. Not only was Ravus dead, but he wasn’t exactly chummy with the witches who had murdered him and his sister. So, yeah, that had to be some powerful magic.

Prompto at least got the hint. “Right. Plan B.” He shoved the spell book back into his satchel and started down the empty hallway. “If you'll follow me?”

They did, their steps echoing loudly. There was something otherworldly about schools at night. The fact that it was Daemon’s Night and a full moon only accentuated the strange feel. There was a stillness in the air that was absent during the day when the halls were teeming with students and teachers moving between classes and filling the air with chatter and the smells of paper, ink, and teenage body odour.

To his surprise, Prompto seemed to be taking them to the art room. “This school has a kiln,” Prompto explained. “Me and Noct checked it out a few years ago. Y’know, just in case. We wanted to be ready.”

“Always wise to walk into battle prepared,” Ignis agreed. He had fallen into step beside Prompto, and Gladio was jealous. Here was the subject of years of Ignis’ study and interest come to life and able to answer his questions. It must be a dream come true for Ignis, despite the circumstances.

Was it no wonder that Gladio worried that Ignis might like Prompto better?

“So, Plan B is we use the spell book to lure the witches here, trap them in the kiln, and turn it on,” Prompto said.

Gladio was shocked out of his selfish thoughts. “Wait, we’re going to bake them?”

“Like in Hansel and Gretel!” Iris said. She seemed more awed than scared.

Gladio was worried about her. Did she realize this was real?

“The plan has merit,” Ignis mused. “Though it’s not without risk.”

Prompto was nodding, but it was Noctis who spoke. “If we fail, the witches get the book,” he said. “They make the potion. Kill some kids. Live forever.”

“So we won’t fail then,” Gladio said. “We have the advantage. We outnumber them, and they’ve been dead for hundreds of years. If they didn’t know what sprinklers are, they sure as hell won’t recognize a modern kiln as a danger to them.”

The others nodded.

Gladio had to give Prompto and Noctis credit. They had really thought about what they would do if the witches were resurrected. They had a plan. They were ready.

First, Prompto let himself be spotted by Ravus, who was shambling around the neighbourhood looking for them. He went off to let the witches know where they were, and they waited.

It wasn’t long before Noctis, their lookout for his small size and ability to blend into shadows, ran up to let them know that the witches had just broken into the building.

Ignis turned on the radio. It was just some talk show with the volume too low to make out the words, but the witches didn’t know that. Radio hadn’t been invented yet when they died. All they knew was that their targets were within the otherwise deserted school, so they followed the sound of talking.

They crept on silent feet to take their victims unaware. Gladio, hiding behind the art room door, wouldn’t have known they had gone by if he didn’t have a direct line of sight on Ignis crouched beneath the desks. Ignis’ eyes widened, and he covered his mouth to stifle his breathing.

The witches followed the talking radio right into the kiln. They looked around the small room lined with shelves in confusion.

“Father, it’s a talking box,” Loqi said, and Ignis crawled out from under the desk to slam the door to the kiln closed and lock it. Gladio shoved a heavy bookshelf in front of the door just in case. After all, magic was how Prompto got into the locked room with the kiln controls. He was sure Ardyn and Verstael could magic a lock open.

“Trickery!” Verstael yelled, his voice muffled by the door. There was banging from the other side.

“Now, Prompto!” Noctis shouted.

Prompto turned the heat up.

There were flashes of green light as Ardyn tried to blast the door down. Remarkably, it held. Prompto hadn’t been sure it would.

Then the screaming started.

Gladio was glad that he’d refused Iris’ pleas to be in the room. There was no way he was allowing her into the danger zone. He hadn’t even considered how scarring it would be for her to listen to three people die, one of which was a boy who appeared her own age. He felt nauseated himself listening to it, but even more than that, he felt relief. It was working. Ignis and Iris would be safe.

Noctis had argued in favour of leaving while the witches were burning in the kiln. Just in case they got out, he wanted the book well away from them. But the others overruled him. They had to bear witness. It was the only way they would know whether their plan had worked. They didn’t want to be caught unaware.

The screaming stopped. After a few minutes to let the kiln cool down, Prompto opened the door a crack to peer in. “They’re gone!” he announced in relief, closing the door. “We did it!”


	4. In Which Ignis Reads a Book

Gladio whooped and clapped Ignis on the shoulder. Ignis grinned, his face flushing.

“Success!” Gladio said.

“Indeed,” Ignis agreed, and Gladio had to keep himself from kissing Ignis right then and there in his giddy joy. It wouldn’t be right to kiss Ignis now. Ignis had given no sign that he wanted that.

Noctis leaped into Prompto’s arms, which opened to catch him. Gladio was surprised at the open affection when Noctis nuzzled his head against Prompto’s chin. Instead of saying something celebratory, Noctis asked, “Are you okay?”

All at once, Gladio remembered that Prompto was different from the rest of them. Ardyn, Verstael, and Loqi weren’t just enemies to him. They were his family. He and Verstael were related by blood, and, well, Gladio wasn’t quite sure how he was related to the others. But they had obviously lived together for some time before the witches died.

Prompto must have complicated feelings about this.

“Yeah, buddy,” Prompto said with an unconvincing smile. He scratched Noctis between the ears. “I dealt with it the first time. I’ll be okay.”

Gladio didn’t have much experience with cats and so couldn’t read Noct’s expression, but he himself was not convinced.

Still, he had met Prompto only hours ago and wasn’t someone who could offer him comfort. Noctis would have to do that.

“I’m gonna go get Iris,” he said.

Ignis turned to follow. “I’ll go with you.”

So Gladio wasn’t the only one who thought those two, who had been so emotionally invested in the situation for so long, needed a moment to themselves. Whether that was to grieve, celebrate, or comfort each other was their business.

It had been Ignis’ idea to hide Iris in the storage room in the gym. Ignis was full of good ideas and had been entrusted with a surprising number of keys. First, Aera had given him the key to the Izunia house, then he had revealed that, actually, he’d had a key to the gym storage room for years.

“Why?” Gladio had asked. Ignis had said he didn’t do any sports.

Ignis shrugged. “I used to help set up the equipment for an after school kids’ club that rented the premises,” he explained. “When they secured space at the community centre, I was out of the job, but the school never thought to request that I return the key.”

And so Ignis had kept it, thinking it might come in handy someday.

Which it had.

“Gladdy, Iggy!” Iris said, sitting up on the blue gym mats when they opened the door. She scrabbled off them and hurried over. “Did we win?”

“Yeah.” He ruffled her hair. “We did.”

Iris cheered and did a little dance. Gladio was embarrassed for her, but Ignis smiled fondly. “Your sister is a brave one,” he commented when he caught Gladio looking.

Gladio grunted. “That, or she has no sense.”

In mock outrage, Iris punched him in the arm a few times. He had to pretend it didn’t hurt. Iris was strong for an eight year old, but Ignis didn’t necessarily know that. Gladio didn’t want to be taken for a wimp.

Prompto was waiting at the entrance of the school when Gladio, Ignis, and Iris made their way over. He leaned against the wall with Noctis in his arms. Noct’s eyes were closed, seemingly asleep. No wonder. It had been a big night.

It occurred to Gladio as their group came together that he didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. What, were they all supposed to disband and head home? That didn’t seem right. Not after a night like tonight.

It was Prompto who settled it.

“Noct and I were talking,” he said without preamble. He straightened up and came a couple steps closer as he spoke, Noct still cradled in his arms. “We think it’d be best if we stick together until sunrise. Y’know, just in case.”

“A wise idea.” Ignis was nodding. “We’re dealing with magic, after all. Being prepared for the unexpected is best when we don’t know what might happen.”

Prompto looked relieved at being so readily understood. It was like he had been prepared for an argument. “Yeah, exactly.” He bounced on the balls of his feet, once, then seemed to realize that would disturb Noct and stopped. “I know I’m a witch and I should know these things, but . . . ”

“You were orphaned at a young age and left to figure it out yourself,” Ignis finished. “Perfectly understandable.”

And it was. Gladio had no idea how Prompto and Noctis had muddled through the years after they were left alone at eight years old. While Noctis’ parents had lived through the conflict with the witches, Gladio had to assume that either Prompto and Noctis had never explained that Noctis had been turned into a cat, or they’d attempted to and it had not gone well.

“Well, I’m fine with it,” he said. Especially if he got to spend more time with Ignis. “But I don’t want to hang out in the school until morning.”

“Me neither!” Iris interjected with feeling.

“So how about we go to my house? Our dad will be at his work thing for a few hours longer, and it’s a weekend, anyway, so he won’t mind us having friends over.”

“That’d be great,” Prompto said. “Me’n Noct live in an apartment. Visitors are fine, but it’s kinda small.”

For once Gladio was the one who knew the way. As he walked it, however, he suddenly realized something. “Hey, you’re the one who gave me directions earlier,” he said to Prompto. Yeah. The boy with the camera.

“Huh?” For a moment, Prompto looked blank. Then his eyes brightened with recognition. “Oh yeah! To the train station, right?”

“Right.” Now that Gladio knew what his deal was, it wasn’t so weird that he’d been showing a cat his photographs, after all. Hell, he’d show stuff to Noctis, too. Maybe not in public, but Prompto had lived long enough to stop caring about that kind of thing.

“ _I_ don’t need directions,” Iris announced proudly. “I learned the way already.”

Gladio ruffled her hair hard enough to be a noogie, making her squeal. That’d teach her to be all smug.

As he’d thought, the house was still dark when they returned. Iris had lost her candy bag at some point during the night’s adventures, but she insisted that it was fine as Gladio unlocked the door and flicked on the lights.

She said it was fine now, but Gladio was sure she’d be bummed out after school on Monday when the kids started bragging about their hauls. He made a mental note to ask Clarus to buy her some discounted candy tomorrow so that it wouldn’t be a total loss.

Crap. What kind of excuse could he make for her not having any candy?

Maybe he’d just tell Clarus some jerk stole it. After all, he’d had first hand experience that there were bullies in town. But then his dad would ask why he didn’t send them packing like the bullies earlier.

Ugh.

The others followed him into the house, looking around curiously. “Nice place,” Noct commented as Prompto paused to take off his shoes.

“Thanks,” Gladio replied automatically. There was a mirror in the foyer, and he was busy discovering that Iris’ candy wasn’t the only thing they’d lost. The werewolf ears she’d made him weren’t on his head. No surprise, really. There hadn’t been anything but a flimsy headband holding them on, and it had been a wild night.

“Is anyone hungry?” he asked. They didn’t have much, and Gladio wasn’t a good cook, but “I can make toast or something.”

Ignis snorted. That sounded like judgment, so Gladio’s heart sank. He didn’t want Ignis to think he was a loser.

“I’m sure I can find something to throw together,” Ignis said. He’d ditched his own shoes, the sensible dress shoes splattered with mud and sewer muck. “Show me to the kitchen and I’ll make do.”

Gladio objected. “No, you’re not supposed to cook.” He knew he was fumbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. It was so unexpected. “You’re a guest.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “If you’re uncomfortable with me using your kitchen, I will abstain. But if you’re merely standing on hospitality, I must assure you that I am an excellent cook. I also enjoy it.”

“This way!” Iris didn’t seem to share Gladio’s hesitance. She grabbed Ignis’ hand and showed him to the kitchen, where he began to open cupboards and drawers to check where things were. Then he was opening the fridge to assess their fresh produce.

Gladio leaned against the counter, well out of the way. He crossed his arms over his chest, self-conscious. There wasn’t a lot in the fridge, he knew. This was confirmed when Ignis hummed in thoughtful irritation.

“Well, it’ll have to be pasta then,” he remarked.

Gladio watched Ignis make himself comfortable in the kitchen for longer than he should have before he remembered that he had other guests. “You can handle yourself here?”

“Of course.” Ignis waved him off, and Gladio reluctantly left.

He returned to the living room to find that Iris had taken charge of their guests. Iris was seated on the coffee table, something that Clarus wouldn’t have allowed if he were home. She had an array of DVDs spread across the top. Noctis stood on the table and examined the covers as he argued with Iris about what they should watch.

“Nothing with witches,” Noct was saying as Gladio flopped on the couch. “I’ve had enough of witches.”

“Gonna have to agree with Noct,” Gladio said. He glanced sideways at Prompto. “No offence.”

Prompto waved a hand. “None taken. I totally get it.”

Iris heaved a great sigh and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “boys” under her breath. “What about ‘The Nightmare Before Christmas’? I don’t think there are any witches in that one.” She held up the cover for Noct to see.

“Fine by me,” Noct said.

No one else seemed to have any objections, so Iris got up to put the DVD in. Noct jumped from the table to Prompto’s lap, purring when Prompto scratched under his chin. Prompto seemed to have mastered the fine line between treating Noctis like a person and treating him like a cat. Gladio didn’t think he could have adapted to Noct’s strange situation so gracefully.

And was no one going to comment on how fucking weird it was to curl up watching movies after the bizarre night they just had? Speaking of, “I think I’m supposed to send you to bed, Iris.” It was late, going by the clock. He could still hear people on the street outside. Daemon’s Night parties wouldn’t wrap up for another few hours.

Iris shook her head, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “Nuh-uh. I’m staying up until sunrise,” she announced, a bit ambitious for a kid who usually conked out well before midnight. “I want to make sure the witches are dead. _Super_ dead.”

He could have argued with her. He had big brother authority. But Iris was stubborn, he was tired, and part of him was afraid to let her out of his sight. Not until he was sure the witches weren’t coming back. After all, they’d come back from the dead once. Gladio didn’t know how the hell magic worked, but he hoped burning them to death meant they were gone for good.

They weren’t far into _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ before Ignis entered the room bearing steaming plates that smelled absolutely divine. Seriously. Gladio had no idea how Ignis had managed to find stuff that smelled that good in the sparse Amicitia kitchen. The guy must have been blessed by the astrals.

What Ignis had managed to throw together was a thin pasta with alfredo sauce and chicken and a side of vegetables. Ignis was a little aggrieved as he explained that he’d only been able to find _canned_ chicken and frozen vegetables. Like he’d have grilled the chicken himself if he could. Gladio couldn’t imagine putting that much effort into something that would be devoured in a few short minutes, but if cooking pleased Ignis, he wasn’t gonna complain.

“Smells great,” he said and was rewarded with a small smile. An insecure smile, as though he was worried Gladio wouldn’t like it. To prove him wrong, Gladio took a generous bite. “Tastes great,” he said around a mouthful of pasta.

Ignis’ smile was thin but pleased. “After seeing your kitchen, I suspect your standards are rather low. However . . . thank you.”

Gladio smiled back, pleasure warm in his chest. Ignis was in his house. They were sitting together, eating good food. What was there to complain about?

“I thought you said there were no witches in this?” Noctis demanded. He glared at the TV screen, where there was indeed a witch in the background of the movie.

“Oops,” Iris said with a shrug. “Iggy, this pasta is yummy!”

Ignis smiled at Iris while Prompto soothed Noct, who settled, grumbling, on his chest. Gladio’s eyes were drawn to the spell book, which Prompto had pulled out of his bag and set on the coffee table. He’d left his bag by the door, but Gladio couldn’t blame Prompto for not wanting to let the book out of his sight.

After everyone had finished eating, Ignis tried to gather up the plates and take them into the kitchen. Gladio stopped him with a hand on his arm. When those green eyes looked quizzically back at him, Gladio scowled. “Seriously, Ignis? It’s my house. Bad enough that I let you cook. If Dad finds out I let you clean up as well, I’ll be in for it.”

He took the plates from Ignis, who didn’t seem to be able to help smiling. Sure, it was just a matter of rinsing the plates and loading everything into the dishwasher, but still. Amicitia’s had _some_ manners. The only thing Gladio had to wash by hand was the pot and saucepan Ignis used.

When that was done, he gave the counter a quick wipe so that Ignis wouldn’t think they were total slobs. The whole process didn’t take very long, but when he returned to the living room, he found that three of the four people had fallen asleep.

Headstrong Iris had finally succumbed to the hour and was curled up on the floor wrapped in a throw blanket, her beloved moogle plush tucked into her arms. Her witch hat, which had somehow not gotten lost, was laid beside her on the carpet covered in substances that Gladio didn’t want to ponder the origins of, given the places they’d been that evening.

On the other couch, Prompto was asleep leaning against the arm of the couch. His arms were wrapped loosely around Noct, who was sprawled across his chest. Both of them looked so exhausted that Gladio crept back into the room to keep from disturbing them. He settled next to Ignis, who was the only other person still awake.

“I wondered if I ought to leave them to sleep,” Ignis whispered as soon as Gladio was settled. He was watching Prompto and Noct, the look in his eyes sad and almost tender. “But I didn’t want to leave them alone. Just in case.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed. He wasn’t leaving Iris alone until the sun was up. Not just rising, but actually in the sky.

Ignis’ stare transferred from Prompto and Noct to the spell book sitting nearby. The intensity of the look surprised Gladio.

“Would you think ill of me,” Ignis murmured, “if I told you that I am desperately curious about that spell book? What spells does it hold, I wonder.”

“I think that’s normal,” Gladio said. Mysteries were enough to make anyone curious, and this was one that Ignis had grown up with, had studied, had worked in a job that brought him in close proximity to the questions. As terrifying as the night had been, it must have been something of a dream come true for Ignis. He got to live the legend he’d been studying for so long.

Ignis fidgeted, hands fluttering as though he longed to put them on the book. He clasped them in his lap. “I had never laid eyes on it before tonight. The spell book was never part of the exhibit at the museum. We thought it lost to time. But here it is.” He repeated it softer. “Here it is.”

Gladio said nothing as Ignis edged along the couch until he was close to the book. Close enough to touch it, if he wanted. And he wanted to. There was such intense longing in his face. Here was a piece of his town’s history almost in his hands. Opening it and taking a look couldn’t hurt.

The book wasn’t his. By rights it belonged to Prompto, who had been looking after it since his father’s death. “I’m not going to take it,” Ignis said, catching Gladio’s eye. “Just look.”

Gladio shrugged. “Don’t see how it could hurt.”

Emboldened, Ignis laid a hand on the cover. The cover made of human skin, as Gladio recalled. That was gross, but from Ignis’ expression it must not feel as weird as Gladio imagined. Ignis glanced quickly at Prompto to make sure he and Noct were still asleep, but neither of them stirred. Ignis pulled the book onto his lap in a quick motion and shuffled over so that he was next to Gladio again.

“It’s even creepier up close,” Gladio observed, staring the book in its eye. The eye looked grumpy at being woken up, but at least the book was noiseless when Ignis flipped the cover open. The text inside seemed to be handwritten in several different hands. One was narrow and spidery, while another was small and cramped and seemed to have been written in a hurry. All were hard to read, but not nearly as faded as would be expected from such an ancient book.

Magic, Gladio supposed.

Ignis flipped through the first ten or so spells without more than glancing at the titles, then seemed to sigh. “I can’t find it,” he grumbled.

“I didn’t realize you were looking for something in particular,” Gladio said. He felt a bit like he was just along for the ride at this point.

Ignis glanced at Noctis and Prompto again. “I had thought . . . well, I suppose it was silly of me. If a spell to return Noctis to human form were in this book, I daresay Prompto would have tried it already.”

Oh. Gladio looked at Noctis, who looked more like a dark void on Prompto’s shirt than a cat. That was the thing about black cats, and probably what had them branded as bad luck in the first place. They seemed formless in dim lighting. “It’s kind of you to want to help him.”

Ignis shrugged, embarrassed, and turned another page. “Ah, look at this.” He showed Gladio the page, where there were a few lines of that small, cramped writing and an ink illustration of a circle. “A salt circle. To repel witches, zombies, the fae . . . and old boyfriends.”

Gladio thought the last one was a joke. “What about new boyfriends?” He bumped Ignis’ shoulder with his and got a small smile. And a blush. _Yes._. Maybe Ignis wasn’t as disinterested as he appeared.

Curiosity satisfied, Ignis put the book back in place on the coffee table. Gladio turned off the movie, since nobody was interested in watching Jack Skellington’s hijinks tonight.

The time was displayed in glowing red letters on the DVD player. Ignis noted this and winced. “Ah.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Aera’s party would have ended a couple hours ago. I never thought to call my uncle to explain my tardiness.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes. My parents passed away a number of years ago. I live with my uncle now.”

“Oh.” Damn, he’d had no idea. “I’m sorry.” He knew firsthand how empty the words sounded when you’d suffered a loss. He also knew there were few other words to use. “We lost our mother as well.” As if he couldn’t help it, his eyes were drawn to Iris. He had good memories of their mother, but Iris was so young. He wished he knew how much of Mom she’d remember as she got older.

“I see. I’m sorry as well.” Ignis squeezed his hand, which sent warmth crawling up his arm, across his shoulder, and into his chest. It was impossible not to smile. Impossible not to blush.

Then Ignis was standing up, and the warmth disappeared. “I really should call my uncle, though. He must be worried.”

“Of course.”

Ignis disappeared into the hallway, then returned a moment later with a sheepish expression. “I’m terribly sorry, but my phone is dead. Could I . . . ?”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely.” Gladio got up and showed Ignis where the home phone was in the kitchen, then backed up a polite distance so that Ignis could speak to his uncle privately.

“Thank you,” Ignis said as he picked up the receiver.

“No problem.” Anything for Ignis.

* * *

“I cannot believe this,” Verstael growled as Ardyn blasted the kiln door open. “Outsmarted by a bunch of children.”

“Hmm.” Ardyn made a sound of agreement and led the way out of the terrible, hot room. “We underestimated them, I suppose.”

“We died _again_.” Loqi’s complaint went ignored by Verstael, who was already storming out into the hallway of this big, empty building that stank of human children.

In sympathy for the boy, Ardyn clapped him on the shoulder. “We did indeed. Let’s not make it a third time.”

That seemed to warrant a response from Verstael, who spun around in the hallway and made an angry gesture at them. “And how will we prevent that? We cannot make the potion to save our lives without my spell book!”

“Which your son has,” Ardyn agreed.

The sound Verstael made was smothered rage. “That traitor is no son of mine.”

Ardyn shrugged in a ‘suit yourself’ fashion, following Verstael’s sweeping progress through the school. “I don’t suppose you could attempt the potion from memory?”

Verstael sneered back at him. “Do _you_ remember the ingredients?”

Ardyn stopped to think for a moment. “No.”

“But we don’t know where Prompto has gone with the book,” Loqi piped up. He was trailing behind and looked like he regretted drawing his father’s attention to him. Still, it was too late to back out, so he pressed on, “What can we do, Father?”

“Unless they open the book, it’s hopeless,” Verstael grumbled. He scrubbed his hands over his face, defeated. “It’s the only way the book can be made known to me. And Prompto knows. He would never be so careless.”

There was silence for a moment, which was broken by Ardyn. “Well, it’s not my style to stand around and wait to die,” he said. “We’ll have to come up with something. Perhaps Ravus will know which way the children went?”

They had no better ideas, so they trooped out to the street where they found Ravus sulking on a bench under a sign with one of those strange horseless wagons that humans seemed to be using to get around these days. He glared up at them as they approached. “Bastard,” he said to Ardyn.

“Oh?” Ardyn’s head tilted. “What’s this? You’ve regained some of your own consciousness, have you? A pity. I can’t override it completely without the book.” He sighed unhappily. “However . . . ” He raised a hand with a flourish, and a small flame lit in the palm of his hand. Ravus eyed it warily, knowing that it could grow at any moment. “How about this? Tell me which way they went, or you’ll be cremated on the spot.”

Ravus raised his chin. As revolting as his level of decomposition made him appear, he still carried himself with pride. “I’m not afraid. I’ve already died once.” Being dead for a century or two hadn’t dimmed the blue of his eyes or the arrogance in them. What a pain.

Ardyn didn’t truly want to get rid of Ravus yet. He might prove useful in the future. It was aggravating that Ravus had successfully called his bluff, but Ardyn supposed that was his own fault for making a threat he didn’t intend to follow through on.

The others seemed to sense it, and Ravus slumped back against the bench with a smug expression. Oh, how Ardyn would love to set him on fire.

“What should we do, Father?” Loqi asked, his young, boyish face anxious as he looked up at Verstael.

Verstael, for his part, was glaring at Ravus in seething rage. But he, too, seemed reluctant to do away with him yet when they might need him in the future. After all, there were only so many people in the cemetery that they knew enough about to raise with a spell.

“I suppose I’ll have to attempt it from memory,” Verstael growled. “Come Ardyn, Loqi. We must make haste.”

It was a tad embarrassing that they had to ask for directions to find their way back to their quaint little cottage. The town had changed so much since their deaths many moons ago. They were able to find their way home with the aid of a boy about Ravus’ age who was dressed as Ifrit (such blasphemy!).

Verstael stared into the depths of the cauldron with his brow furrowed. Although his face was young now, Ardyn couldn’t help but recall how his scowl had looked when his eyebrows were bushy and white.

It was somehow less intimidating now.

Ardyn leaned against the table and waited while Loqi munched on something he’d found in a cupboard. It looked like a dead rat.

Finally, Verstael’s hands dropped away from the cauldron. “It’s no good,” he sighed. “I can’t remember.”

Ardyn frowned. He wasn’t too alarmed yet. There was still time. But Verstael’s frustration was growing, so Ardyn sauntered across the room and placed his hands on Verstael’s shoulders. “So tense!” he exclaimed over the rigid muscles under his hands. “No wonder you cannot remember. You’re trying too hard. Come, Verstael, you must relax.”

Verstael glowered. “And how do you propose I do that?”

That was a reasonable question. Ardyn paused, wondering if he had ever seen Verstael relax in the long years of their acquaintance.

Oh. Hm . . . No occasion came to mind.

But no matter! Ardyn was a relaxation expert. He could help his dear friend.

“You must let go of the tension.” He wiggled his own shoulders to demonstrate, then relaxed them in an exaggerated motion. “See? So much better.”

After a moment, Verstael reluctantly mimicked him. Ardyn beamed. “There, see? Feels good, doesn’t it? Now the tension in your jaw.” He squeezed Verstael’s face. “No, no, don’t clench it tighter! Loose.”

“I don’t think this is working,” Verstael said after Ardyn had guided him through some stretching. They were both lying on the floor side-by-side, taking deep breaths. “I still don’t remember.”

Ardyn swatted him. “You weren’t supposed to try while we were relaxing! You were supposed to let it out of your mind, and then it would return to you once you stopped looking. It’s hopeless, now.”

“Well, you didn’t tell me that.” Verstael sat up. He scanned the shelves from his position on the floor. “I don’t even remember any of the ingredients.”

“Ground Seadevil scales,” Loqi piped up from his seat at the table. He shrank down when both men turned to stare at him.

“What was that? Speak up, boy,” Verstael snapped.

“I remember there was ground Seadevil scales in the potion,” Loqi said. The intensity Verstael was staring at him with must be frightening him, because there was a tremor in his voice. “The jar was open when that awful boy threw it, so it got everywhere and made me choke.”

Verstael’s eyes brightened. “Yes, yes, I remember now. Seadevil scales...” He rooted around the dusty old desk for an ancient bit of parchment, but all of the ink had dried out. No wonder. It was so old. “Blast!” he grumbled. “How am I to write it down?”

Ardyn looked around and picked up a strange, clear tube that seemed to have ink suspended inside it somehow. The tip came to a rounded point. When Ardyn drew his thumb over the tip, it left a dark smudge. He held the tube out to Verstael. “This appears to be a writing implement.” Verstael took it with a doubtful look, but Ardyn urged him to try it.

It worked. Verstael wrote ‘Seadevil scales’ with a flourish. “What else?”

The three witches stared at each other blankly.

“Well . . . ” Ardyn began. Verstael swung around to face him. “There was that part where we had to bite a piece off our tongue.”

“Oh, yes.” Loqi nodded and crinkled his nose. “I hated that part.”

Verstael wrote that down.

But despite straining their brains to the limits, they could remember nothing else.

Verstael dropped heavily into a chair and leaned his head on the table. “It’s no good. I simply can’t remember.”

Ardyn patted his shoulder. “It’s all right. None of us can. It’s not your fault alone.”

“If I only had my book-”

“Father, what’s that?”

Loqi’s question made them both turn. Loqi was squinting out the window. When Verstael got up to stand by him, Loqi pointed. “That light there. What is it?”

There was a towering green light that rose above the treetops from the direction of the town. It was unmistakably magic. Giddy joy lit up Verstael’s face. “Well spotted, Loqi!” he clapped Loqi’s shoulder hard enough to send the boy lurching a step forward. “Ardyn. They’ve opened the book!”

A slow smile broke across Ardyn’s face. “Excellent. We must hurry, lest they close the book before we make it there.”

Verstael’s cloak billowed around him as he strode purposely across the room. “We fly!”

There was a pause. “Um, on what?” Loqi ventured.

They had abandoned the broom, mop, and strange cleaning implement in the town. There was nothing else here to use.

Verstael huffed. “We walk. And quickly!”

* * *

Gods, Ignis had to have the prettiest green eyes under the sun. They seemed to sparkle even under the shitty lighting of the Amicitia’s kitchen. Was that a corny thing to think? Gladio didn’t care. Ignis was gorgeous.

Gladio had to clear his throat to speak. He’d been staring again. That was awkward. But his unobstructed view of Ignis’ green eyes meant that Ignis had been staring back.

Damn, that was a great feeling.

“I, uh, never got your number, did I?” Gladio asked, breaking the silence.

The faintest trace of a smile brightened Ignis’ face, but even that was enough to have Gladio’s heart skipping a beat. “No, you did not,” Ignis confirmed. “Would you like it?”

Gladio nodded. His cheeks felt warm, and he spared a moment to be grateful that he wasn’t pale like Prompto. Blushes didn’t show as prominently on Gladio. He turned and grabbed one of those notepads that real estate companies stuck in the mailbox for advertising. He pressed it and a pen into Ignis’ hands and watched as Ignis wrote his name with a flourish, then his number in clear, precise writing beneath it.

His handwriting was so damn perfect. Nothing like Gladio’s messy scrawl.

Ignis tore the page off and handed it to Gladio. “Here. I don’t plan to leave quite yet, but-”

He was cut off by a cat’s furious yowl in the living room. Both Ignis and Gladio jumped. Something shattered. Then Iris screamed.

_“Gladdy!”_

There was no second scream, but there didn’t need to be. Gladio was already running.

The living room was empty when he arrived. He whirled around. Where was Iris? Where were Prompto and Noct?”

“Iris?” he called. “Iris, where are you?”

He spotted Noct first. The cat was crumpled in a heap at the base of the wall. One of the art pieces Gladio’s mom had collected was on the floor next to him, the glass shattered and the frame splintered. It looked like Noct had been thrown against the wall and knocked down the painting on impact.

Gladio rushed over and scooped Noct into his arms, praying to the astrals that Noct wasn’t dead. But there was a faint heartbeat when Gladio pressed his hand against Noct’s ribs.

Gladio let out a shaky breath. _'Thank fuck,'_ he thought, and then laughter had him turning again.

Ignis rushed into the room just as Gladio turned and saw the witches. Verstael was front and center with a smirk on his face and the spell book in his hands. Loqi was at his heels, mimicking his father’s gloating expression.

Ardyn was nowhere to be seen. Neither were Iris and Prompto.

Ignis froze, his eyes darting from Verstael to the book, from the book to Loqi, and then he was at Gladio’s side.

He had the big salt container that they refilled the salt shaker from. With shaking hands, he quickly surrounded himself, Gladio, and Noct in a salt circle. So that’s what had taken him so long to follow Gladio.

Verstael laughed as Ignis completed the circle and faced him. “Clever boy! I see you’ve done some reading.” The grin on his face was all victory and malice. That frightened Gladio more than anything else he’d seen that night. “You’re correct. I cannot touch you inside the circle. But it won’t save your friends.”

Gladio’s stomach clenched. His worst fears were realized. _They had Iris._

“You give her back,” he snarled. He didn’t like to be afraid. Better to be angry. So he let the rage course through his veins, choking out the fear. “If you hurt my sister-”

Verstael spared him a disgusted look. “You’ll what? I have my book. You cannot stop us. Once we use her life force for the potion, we’ll be invulnerable.”

He flipped the book open to a page and motioned Loqi closer to his side. “Come. We must join Ardyn quickly and begin the potion.” Verstael began chanting the spell words, but before he had gotten more than a line in, Noctis erupted into motion in Gladio’s arms.

“Hey!” Gladio protested as Noctis leaped down and out of the salt circle, hissing and yowling. He launched himself at Verstael’s face, claws out.

Verstael yelled and stumbled back, bloody scratches raked across his face. His flailing arm connected with Loqi, knocking the boy to the ground. Noct slid down the front of Verstael’s robes, then clawed his way back up to slash and bite at Verstael’s face.

Verstael screamed and flailed. Loqi was on the ground crying because Verstael stomped on his fingers.

 _‘The book,’_ Gladio thought. If he could get the book away and keep it, they wouldn’t be able to use it to make the potion.

“Gladio, no!” Ignis protested as Gladio pushed past him and out of the circle. He had to get the book. He had to save his sister.

He made a grab for the book just as Verstael managed to dislodge Noct from his face. Verstael grabbed Noct roughly around the throat and flung him. Noct slammed into Gladio’s chest, knocking him off balance. He took a step back to stabilize himself, and his foot caught on Loqi.

Gladio went down, crashing through the coffee table. Loqi yelped as he was squished under Gladio’s butt.

“Father, help! Father!” his muffled cries could be heard as Gladio laid there, dazed.

Noct twitched, but didn’t seem able to get up either. Verstael stomped over with a furious expression and yanked Loqi out by the leg. “Would that I had the time to torture you as you deserve,” he snarled to Gladio and Noctis. The bleeding scratches on his face made him look unhinged. “But the candle’s power is almost spent. Hold _still_ , Loqi.”

“But Father-” Loqi protested, dangling upside-down from Verstael’s hand.

Verstael paid him no mind and resumed reading from the spell book. Gladio blinked spots from his vision and tried to sit up. His shoulder burned. He felt like he couldn’t draw in a deep breath. But he had to get up. Iris needed him.

By the time he sat up and sent Noct tumbling to his lap, Verstael and Loqi were gone.


	5. In Which There is a Battle

Gladio closed his eyes in pain that was emotional as well as physical. “Damned by the Astrals. What now?”

Noct coughed weakly as Ignis rushed over to kneel beside them. “Are you both all right?” he asked, his face tense with worry. “I regret that I couldn’t do anything.”

“I think-” Gladio had been about to say that he thought he was all right, but he became aware of warm liquid trickling down his arm. He knew that feeling. “I’m bleeding.” He twisted to try and see the damage, but Ignis grabbed his biceps to halt him.

“Wait. Let me.”

Gladio held still as Ignis leaned forward to inspect the wound to Gladio’s shoulder. He hissed as Ignis gently pulled the torn fabric away to get a better look. “Sorry,” Ignis said automatically. He leaned back. “It’s a scratch, but it’s not terribly deep. I think it would be best to bandage it before we proceed.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Gladio objected. “Iris and Prompto have been captured by the witches. We gotta go get ‘em.”

“Naturally. _After_ we bandage your wound.”

Gladio opened his mouth to argue, but Ignis was already pushing to his feet. “Now, where does your family keep the first aid kit?” Ignis asked.

Seeing that arguing was pointless, Gladio released his breath in a hiss. “Kitchen cupboard above the fridge,” he grumbled.

Ignis nodded and left the room.

Noct stood and stepped unsteadily off Gladio’s lap. “Specs is pretty strict,” he said. He tried for lightness, but Gladio could hear the strain in his voice.

“Hey, buddy, you okay?” Gladio asked him. Noctis was favouring one paw, and Gladio couldn’t tell if the blood was Noct’s or Verstael's.

“Yeah. I can’t die,” Noct said.

Oh. Well. “How . . . ”

“Part of the spell on me. Can’t die. Figured that out when I got run over by a wagon. Scared Prompto pretty bad, though.” He hobbled a few steps then sat down, panting. “I’ll mend in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

Well, damn. “Does it, uh, hurt?” Gladio asked.

Noct glanced at him and didn’t answer.

So that was a yes.

It wasn’t long before Ignis returned with the first aid kit in hand, which was a good thing, because Gladio wasn’t above taking off on his own to go fight some witches. Ignis refused to be rushed, gently disinfecting the wound with alcohol wipes before wrapping it in a clean white bandage.

“So we can go now?” Noct was hovering so close he was practically in Ignis’ lap. “C’mon, Specs, I gotta get Prompto,” he said when Ignis shot him a look.

“Is that supposed to be me?” Ignis asked, putting the supplies neatly back in the first aid kit.

“It’s a nickname.”

“Clearly.”

Gladio’s ears had stopped ringing, though his head and shoulder still throbbed. He got to his feet. “Enough dawdling. Let’s go.”

Ignis set the first aid kit on the couch and nodded. “Yes. We must hurry.”

It took some self-restraint for Gladio to bite back that he’d been saying that all along. Ignis may be the nicest-looking guy Gladio had ever seen, but Gladio’s worry over Iris swamped that.

Noct trotted at their heels as they headed to the outskirts of town and the witches’ cottage. Gladio’s heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea what awaited them there. He hoped Iris could hold out long enough for him to save her.

It was late enough now for the streets to be deserted. All the children trick-or-treating and attending Daemon’s Night parties had long since returned home and been tucked into bed.

All except Iris.

_Iris._

Noct’s thoughts must be following similar lines, because he said, “Prompto’s strong. He’ll hold out until I get there.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“He’s quite precious to you, isn’t he?” Ignis said. It wasn’t really a question. He gave a cursory glance both ways before they ran across the deserted main avenue.

“ . . . Yeah.” Man, it was hard to tell since Noct was a cat, but Gladio was starting to realize that Noct was shy. “Prompto is . . . he’s everything.”

“Oh?” there was a smile in Ignis’ voice. “We’ll have to save him, then.”

“Yeah.”

And there was the determination that Gladio needed from him.

Soon they were out of the main part of town and running down the forest road that led to the witches’ house. Noct’s ears pricked. “Something’s not right,” he said, though he didn’t slow down.

“What?” Gladio asked.

“Hear that?”

They all fell silent to listen. Gladio was going to grumble that he couldn’t hear anything other than their feet slapping the pavement, but then . . . was that a song?

_“Come little children,  
I’ll take thee away  
Into a land of enchantment.  
Come little children,  
The time’s come to play  
Here in my garden of magic.”_

“Is that a spell?” Ignis caught on first.

“Yeah. That’s Ardyn. He’s calling the town’s children out to use for the potion,” Noct confirmed.

All of them? “But he’s already got Iris!” Gladio said.

“The more children they suck the life force out of, the more powerful they’ll become and the longer they’ll live.”

It wasn’t long before they saw what Noct meant. Instead of being in their beds, children were shambling along the road ahead of them and in the woods to either side. Some were dressed for bed in pyjamas or other comfortable clothing, but some were still wearing their costumes. None of them so much as glanced at the teens as they dodged through their midst.

Gladio would have liked to get a proper look at their faces, but he didn’t dare slow down enough to. The kids weren’t moving very fast. If they kept up the pace, Gladio, Ignis, and Noct should get to the witches well before the children did.

“Why doesn’t the spell affect us?” Gladio asked.

“Dunno.” Noct wasn’t always helpful.

But Ignis was. “I suspect that we’re too old to be of interest, so the spell isn’t targeting us,” he explained. “In the legend, the spell seemed to target Lunafreya specifically. None of the town’s children, including Ravus and Noctis, were affected, according to what I heard.”

“Yeah. Didn’t affect me at all, other than a bit of dizziness. It was easy to tune out.”

They rounded the gentle curve in the road and the witches' house came into sight in the distance. There were no street lights out this far, but the full moon lit the clearing well enough to navigate. The lights were blazing in all the windows.

Gladio would have charged up the steps and into the house if Ignis hadn’t grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. “Wait,” Ignis said when Gladio turned to look at him. “We need a plan.”

“We don’t have time-” Gladio began, frustrated, but Noct interrupted.

“No, Specs is right. We can’t just rush in there. We’re outmatched.”

“Yes. So we need to be smart,” Ignis said.

Gladio looked back over his shoulder at the house where Iris was trapped. Who knew how much time she had? “What’s the plan?”

So he listened and nodded. He had to admit, he was smart. The witches would turn to dust at sunrise. They could use that to their advantage. “Fine. But I’m going in.”

Ignis looked like he wanted to make a comment about stubbornness, but he held it in. “Very well. I’ll wait for your signal, then.”

Gladio nodded. It was agonizing to wait for Ignis to get things in place, but finally he was able to do what he’d been longing to do. He bounded up the wooden steps to the front door and flung it open just in time to hear: “The potion is ready! Open her mouth.”

Anger surged in his veins. He’d arrived just in time, it seemed.

The three witches were across the room, gathered around Iris. Iris was tied to a chair. Loqi was closest to her, trying to pry her mouth open while Verstael brandished a giant spoon full of glowing green potion near her mouth.

Loqi managed to get her mouth slightly open, but before Verstael could shove the spoon in, Iris leaned over and sank her teeth into Loqi’s hand. He yelped and tried to pull away, but Iris wasn’t letting go. “Father, she bit me!” he whined when he finally managed to get free, lighter by a layer of skin.

That was Gladio’s spunky little sister.

After that, Loqi was reluctant to go near her, so Ardyn reached out to try and pry her jaws apart.

“Get your hands off my sister,” Gladio growled.

The witches turned in surprise, sloshing green potion onto the floor. “Ah,” Ardyn said lightly. Did nothing rattle him? “It seems we weren’t quite fast enough.”

“Gladdy!” Iris almost burst into tears in her relief, but she held them in. “Get them away from me!”

“Will do.”

Ardyn tried to take advantage of Iris’ mouth being open by jamming his thumb in her mouth to keep her from closing it. Instead, Iris bit down hard. Soon Ardyn’s blood was dribbling down her chin while he cursed and smacked her to get her to release him.

“Don’t you hit her,” Gladio snarled. He stormed a few steps forward, then he remembered the plan. He couldn’t blow it. The witches had magic, and he did not. Like Ignis said, he was at a disadvantage if he charged in headlong. “Besides, you’re too late.”

The witches sent him puzzled looks. “Have you lost your mind in your despair?” Verstael demanded. Gladio wanted to punch the haughtiness out of his tone. “You’re the one who’s too late. We’ve won!”

“Oh, really?” Gladio said. “Do you know when the sun rises these days?”

That gave them pause. Verstael and Loqi looked at each other in confusion. Ardyn was still trying to get his thumb free of Iris’ mouth. For a moment the only sounds were Ardyn’s quiet curses.

“That’s not the type of thing that changes,” Loqi said, but his voice held doubt.

“Hmph. Just because the moon is going down doesn’t mean it’s time for sunrise yet-” Verstael began but cut off as a bright light with a red tint began to shine through the window. It slowly grew brighter and higher until it was illuminating the room like the light of day.

“Sunrise,” Gladio said with a savage grin.

The witches were thrown into a panic. Loqi screamed and flung himself under the table, trying to hide from the light.

“The sun!” Verstael gasped and staggered backward. He looked around widely for a place to run and ended up joining Loqi under the table.

Ardyn renewed his efforts to get free of Iris, but he was discovering that Iris was a stubborn brat. She would _not_ let go, so he either had to stay where he was or rip his own thumb off. He sank to the floor, pulling one of his many scarves over his head with his free hand. “Ohhh, it burns!” he moaned. “One of you, quickly, do something!”

But the others were too busy cowering under the table.

While the witches were wailing and trying to hide, Gladio dashed across the floor to Iris. She finally let go of Ardyn as Gladio approached, and Ardyn rolled away to try and hide behind the steaming cauldron. “Gladdy! Let’s go,” she said.

“That’s the plan,” he said, fumbling with the knots. “Where’s Prompto?” he finally thought to wonder as the ropes fell away and Iris hopped to her feet. He’d been so focused on his sister that he hadn’t thought to look for Noct’s important person.

“Over here!” Prompto spoke up for the first time.

Leviathan’s fury, how had he not noticed the cage before? It was swinging from the ceiling near the stairs with Prompto inside. He waved frantically as though Gladio couldn’t see him. Gladio went to the cage and belatedly realized it was locked.

“Here’s the key!” Iris said, snatching it from Ardyn’s belt and running over to Gladio.

“We gotta hurry,” Gladio said, jamming the key into the lock. He lifted Prompto down from the cage, grabbed Iris’ hand, and ran for the door.

“But if it’s sunrise-” Prompto began, confused. Gladio shoved him through the door.

“Just run.”

Prompto understood as they were going down the steps. Outside it was still full dark. Sunrise wasn’t far off, but it wasn’t as imminent as the witches believed. In the yard, Ignis had pulled a floodlight out of the storage shed and was holding a piece of red construction paper in front of it to give the light a red glow. This was the ‘sun’ that the witches thought was burning them.

“We’ve been tricked!” Verstael screeched behind them, but they had already reached the bottom of the stairs.

A dark shape darted across the grass and leaped at Prompto. Prompto paused long enough to catch Noctis before he continued running. “You okay? Did they hurt you?” Noct asked. His dark head nuzzled Prompto’s chin in worry.

“Nah, I’m fine. But we’d better get going, or we won’t be,” Prompto said.

“Where is the book?” Ardyn called to Verstael behind them.

“They’ve stolen it again! Get them!”

Surprised, Gladio looked back. _He_ hadn’t grabbed the book. Hadn’t even looked for it, in fact, since he’d been too focused on getting Iris and Prompto out.

Iris met his eyes with a small smirk. Her free arm held the spell book against her chest.

“Vengeance,” she said with dark glee.

Well, it was probably good that the witches didn’t have it, even though they’d already finished their potion.

But the rest of the kids who were wandering their way . . . how were they supposed to keep those kids safe while also staying away from the witches until sunrise?

He voiced his concerns to the others as they continued running down the road. The spellbound children were just beginning to take form as shadows in the distance.

“Prompto will take care of that,” Noct promised. “Right, Prompto?”

Prompto looked much less certain than Noctis. “Um, yeah,” he said. “I mean, I’ll try.”

Noct was still in Prompto’s arms. He looked up at Prompto in disapproval. “You’ll do fine. We practised, remember? Just in case.”

“Yeah, yeah, we did, but . . . ” Prompto stopped speaking when Noct smacked him with a paw. “Okay, yeah, I know. We have no choice. Gotta do it.”

Gladio felt like his patience was being stretched too thin. _What the hell are you talking about,_ he wanted to demand. But before he could think to do it, Prompto opened his mouth and began to sing.

The song was immediately recognizable. This was Ardyn’s spell song.

“Ah,” breathed Ignis, who had fallen into step next to Gladio. “I see.”

_“Hush now, dear children,  
It must be this way  
To weary of life and deceptions.”_

As Prompto sang, the children stopped walking. It was like they were waiting for something.

Their group advanced on the motionless children quickly. As they wove through them again, the children slowly turned and followed. “What?” Gladio said, creeped out by their eerie followers.

“They’re following Prompto,” Ignis explained. “He’s taken over the enchantment from Ardyn.”

And quite effectively, it seemed. The children were almost running now, trying to keep up. Few of them were wearing shoes, and their bare feet slapped against the packed dirt road.

Would it be fast enough?

“We can’t protect all the kids in town,” Gladio said. Iris was getting tired, and Gladio was half-pulling her along. It was later than she’d ever stayed up in her life, and her little nap hadn’t been enough to refresh her. Gladio paused long enough to pick her up, then continued running as dirt turned to asphalt. Iris’ head lay heavy on his shoulder, the spell book sandwiched between them.

“Sorry, Gladdy,” she said in his ear. “I can’t run anymore.”

“I know, Iris. It’s okay.” He hated this feeling of being hunted. How far behind were the witches? Were they catching up?

And where the hell were they going?

As soon as he thought the question, they turned onto a street he recognized. He didn’t know why he remembered it until he spotted the cemetery up ahead.

Prompto was leading them to hallowed ground. Through the town this time, since they couldn’t take a bunch of ensorcelled children through the sewer system. It would be just their luck that one would fall into the sewage and drown.

Prompto blasted the lock off the cemetery gate, which Gladio thought was clever. It would only slow them down if their entourage of children had to all climb over the gate. Ignis yanked the gate open as Prompto stepped aside and waited. Ah, Gladio remembered. Prompto couldn't come with them. Shit.

His eyes met Prompto's. Prompto gave a little shrug and bent to set Noct on the ground.

Noct shook his head as Ignis began to usher the children into the cemetery. Gladio couldn't hear Noct insist that he wasn't leaving Prompto, but he could imagine the words.

He didn't know what Prompto said to convince Noct to go, but Noct reluctantly peeled away to follow Gladio.

They trooped into the cemetery with the bespelled children in tow. Something moved between the headstones, and the group ground to a halt as Ravus came into view. Gladio swore quietly, one hand going protectively to the small of Iris’ back in case he had to run suddenly. They hadn’t seen Ravus since before their failed attempt to roast the witches to death in the kiln.

They stared at Ravus.

Ravus stared back.

Prompto had stopped singing, and the children milled aimlessly around the cemetery, looking like they had no intention of leaving the confines of the fence.

“Hey, Ravus,” Noct said after the silence had stretched uncomfortably long. “Feeling better?”

The look Ravus sent him was all affronted dignity. Somehow, the story Gladio was told hadn’t made Ravus seem so . . . prissy. “I am no longer under Ardyn’s control, if that’s what you mean,” he huffed. Gladio couldn’t look directly at him for very long. The skin was peeling off Ravus’ face, revealing the decay underneath. “If that is not what you mean, we will have to have a talk about appropriate questions to ask corpses, Noctis.”

“Geez, Ravus,” Noct said, appalled.

“Hold that thought,” Ignis said. He was looking up to the sky. “I believe we have company.”

They turned. The witches were indeed flying towards them at a rapid rate, and not on the assorted cleaning implements they’d used earlier. It looked like they’d grabbed what they could find out of people’s yards and gone with whatever they could enchant to fly. As a result, Loqi was riding on a tiny broom made of twigs, the cheap kind that were sold as Daemon’s Night decorations. He held onto it like he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t snap in half under him. To be fair, it really looked like it might.

Verstael followed on a rake. Someone must have left it out after raking their leaves. There had to be some kind of rules that dictated what could be enchanted to fly, but Gladio couldn’t imagine what they could be. Especially since Ardyn was bringing up the rear on a leaf blower.

Seriously. First a vacuum, now a leaf blower.

Gladio really wondered about that guy.

“Duck!” Ignis instructed. Gladio dove for the ground, covering Iris with his body as the witches soared over their heads.

“You!” Verstael snarled. His face was red with rage, and there was a vein throbbing in his forehead that looked like it was about to burst. “How _dare_ you steal my book. You’ve ruined my potion!”

Gladio couldn’t remember doing anything of the sort. But Iris wiggled out from under him and stood up to face the witches, her tiny hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“I’m glad I ruined your stupid potion, you ugly old meanie!” she screamed at him. There was rage of her own in her face. “You kidnapped me! I’ll spit in your potion a thousand times. I’m gonna watch you turn to dust!”

She might have continued her verbal tirade if Gladio hadn’t grabbed the back of her dress and hauled her to the ground as Ardyn made a dive for her. Ardyn just missed, his hand skimming the air above Iris’ head as she tumbled onto Gladio. “Oof!”

“You spat in the potion?” Gladio asked, amazed. When had she had the chance?

Iris’ faced screwed up like she was going to cry, but she clenched her teeth and made a savage expression instead. “Yeah, and I’d do it again!”

“We have just enough potion left for you,” Loqi taunted. For all his bravado, he hung back. Coward. “I’ll make sure to savour your life force!” He held up a small vial of green potion to prove his point.

“Fool, put that away!” Verstael snapped, but it was too late. Ignis surged to his feet, scooped a rock off the ground, and let it fly.

His accuracy was incredible. The rock knocked the vial out of Loqi’s hand. It fell to the grass near Ravus, but didn’t break.

Loqi howled with pain and alarm and dove for it while Ravus shambled toward the vial.

Crap. Loqi was going to get to it first. Gladio was too far away to help. Ignis was bending down for another rock, but Ardyn was already moving to block him. They had to keep that potion away from the witches.

Loqi reached for the vial, a triumphant smirk on his face.

Ravus grabbed him out of the air.

The cheap imitation broom splintered on the ground as Loqi was yanked from it, rendered useless for flying.

The scream that burst from Loqi as he realized he was captured was all terror. “Father, Father! Help me!”

While Ravus held Loqi, Gladio ran and grabbed the vial. Ignis came to cover him, armed with an armful of rocks. He palmed one, ready to throw it if necessary.

“Release my son!” Verstael screeched, hovering overhead. He didn’t dare fly lower for fear of Ignis’ projectiles.

Ravus looked at Verstael. Then he looked down at Loqi. “As you wish, Besithia,” he said. And he threw Loqi to the ground.

This time Loqi’s shrieks were pain. He burst into flames as soon as he touched the ground. Hallowed ground, anathema to witches. He wreathed and screamed as the flames licked him, and they all backed up in horror. All but Ravus, who watched dispassionately as Loqi burned to ashes.

He raised hate-filled eyes to Verstael’s shocked ones. “That,” he said coldly, “was for Lunafreya.”

Verstael hissed with rage. “You think you’ve won?” he pointed at Ravus with a shaking hand. “You cannot kill us while the black flame candle still burns. We will steal the girl’s life force, and Loqi will rise. You have accomplished _nothing_ to avenge your sister!”

“ _If_ you get your potion back,” Ravus replied calmly. “But I do not think you will.”

Verstael raised a shaking finger. Green sparks crackled around his fingers, the only warning that he was about to cast a spell at them.

As the spell burst from his finger, Prompto cast a spell from his position outside the gate and blocked Verstael's attack with his own magic, which was a glittering blue. The distance put him at a disadvantage, but his magic barrier lasted until Verstael’s spell disappeared.

Gladio drew in a shaking breath. He still remembered how it had felt to be hit by Ardyn’s spell after lighting the black flame candle, which felt like it had happened years ago now. It couldn’t have been that same night, could it?

He suddenly became aware that he had stepped in front of Ignis and Ravus, intending to take the hit for them on instinct. It embarrassed him for some reason, and he lowered the protective arm he’d flung in front of the group. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He knew Ignis could handle himself.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Ignis began.

Iris screamed.

Gladio had thought she was protected at the back of the group, but when he spun around he realized that their focus on Verstael had allowed Ardyn to sneak up behind them. He had grabbed Iris and was flying quickly upward. He was out of reach by the time Gladio ran over to make a grab for him. Just out of reach. “Let her go!”

“My, my, how could you allow such a thing? Your own brother.” It took Gladio a second to realize that he was pitching his voice to Prompto.

Prompto’s face was pale, but he stood his ground. He didn’t even turn to look at Ardyn. He kept his sights on Verstael and his hand raised to repel any attacks. It was Noct who replied, planting all four paws firmly on the ground between Ardyn and Prompto. “Prompto chose his family. He didn’t choose you guys.”

Gladio looked to Ignis for help, but while Ignis had his hand pulled back in a throwing motion, he didn’t throw the rock. There was too high a chance of hitting Iris.

Gladio held up the potion. “You put her down now, or I’ll smash your potion!” he said. Iris’ eyes were wide and frightened and her feet kicked futilely at the empty air. Even so, she did not let go of the spell book. As Ardyn flew higher, though, she stopped trying to get free. She would get badly hurt if she fell from that height, and she knew it.

“Give me the potion, or I’ll kill her,” Ardyn countered. When Gladio didn’t move, Ardyn shrugged and opened his arms. Iris plummeted with a scream.

“Iris!”

Ardyn waited until just before she hit the ground to swoop down to catch her, flying up out of reach before any of them could grab him.

Ignis put a hand on Gladio’s shaking arm. “Keep calm, Gladio. We’ll think of something,” he said. But it wasn’t his sister.

Fuck. Gladio had already lost his mom. He couldn’t lose Iris, too. Not to these assholes.

The thought hadn’t even fully formed in his brain before he pulled the stopper from the vial and drank the potion down.

“What the hell, dude?” Prompto yelped in alarm.

“Gladio!” Ignis’ voice was both frightened and scandalized.

Gladio threw the empty vial to the ground. “There. Now you have no choice but to use me,” he said, glaring defiantly up at Ardyn.

Ardyn’s mouth hung open. He was stunned speechless. Then he seemed to recover, nod, and said, “You’re right. The girl is unnecessary, now.”

And he dropped Iris.

She screamed as she fell. Gladio gasped and took a step forward, intending to rush over to catch her, but then Ardyn was there. Ardyn’s hands closed over Gladio’s arms like twin vices, and then he was being hauled upward. Ignis yelled as Gladio’s feet left the ground.

There was a series of soft thuds as Ignis dropped his armful of rocks and grabbed Gladio’s leg. Ardyn tried to pull Gladio free, but Ignis held on. It was a game of tug-o’-war, and Gladio was the rope.

He struggled to pull free of Ardyn’s hands, but his vision was hazy. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn’t a problem with his eyes. There was literally haze coming off his body. Was that his life force? Damn. He’d expected something more dramatic.

He could hear Iris crying and calling his name. “Let go of my brother!” she shrieked, and then a rock hit the side of Gladio’s head. “Sorry, Gladdy! I wanted to hit Ardyn.”

Iris was alive, but he would have to find out how she survived the drop later. For now, Ardyn’s lips were rounding, and he was sucking up Gladio’s life force like soup.

Ignis was still doggedly hanging on, but they were wobbling more now. Ignis’ feet had left the ground, and they were drifting upward.

“Ardyn, don’t hog him all for yourself,” Verstael admonished. His voice grew closer as he spoke. “We’re supposed to share.”

Gladio tried to headbutt Ardyn, but Ardyn pulled away with a laugh. At least it made him stop his slurping for a second.

Prompto and Noct were yelling, and Iris was sobbing now. “Somebody save Gladdy!”

Ignis yelped, and then a small shape was clawing its way up Gladio’s leg, then his back. Noct hauled himself onto Gladio’s shoulder, poised, and sprang at Ardyn.

With claws out, he hit Ardyn right in the face. Ardyn yelled and let go of Gladio to try and pry the furious, biting feline off his face. Gladio and Ignis fell the short distance to the ground, landing in a heap.

“Yeah, get ‘im, Noct!” Prompto cheered.

Verstael wasn’t going to Ardyn’s rescue, and when Gladio rolled off Ignis and sat up, he found out why.

Prompto had his hands in finger guns. But it wasn’t just the shape he was mimicking. He pointed his ‘gun’ at Verstael and shot a stream of blue light whenever Verstael tried to get close to Ardyn or the people on the ground. Verstael was forced to dodge and retreat.

Bobbing back up, Verstael pointing an open hand at Prompto and shot a stream of green light in retaliation.

He wasn’t aiming at Prompto.

A little girl had wandered through the open gate and was milling around the sidewalk next to Prompto.

Prompto dove and tackled the little girl in pink footie pyjamas out of the way. The two of them tumbled to the ground out of harm’s way.

While Prompto was an excellent ranged fighter, the presence of the spellbound children was a handicap. The witches had so many hostages to choose from, and Prompto had to fight and protect the kids at the same time.

He rolled to his feet, leaving the dazed girl sprawled in the road and staring vacantly at the sky. The only targets in the sky were the witches, so he had a clear shot at them even as they tried to take cover behind the naked trees.

Prompto shot another stream as Verstael, who tried to dodge. But Ardyn hadn’t managed to dislodge Noct from his face yet and was bobbing and rolling to try and shake him loose. The two witches collided with a crash and careened dangerously in different directions.

They skimmed too close to Gladio for comfort, and Ignis hauled him down before he could get kicked in the head.

The collision knocked Noctis loose, and he fell to the ground. With the grace of all felines, he landed lightly on his feet and darted over. “You feeling okay?” he asked Gladio.

“Yeah, thanks,” Gladio said. “You saved my ass.”

“That’s a bad word,” Iris said automatically as she flung herself into Gladio’s arms. “I was worried!”

“Save it. We’re not safe yet.” Gladio gently pried her off and backed away from the witches, who were recovering their balance.

He completely forgot about Ravus until he bumped into him. Gladio froze in surprise. He knew that Ravus was on their side now, but he was unable to help his revulsion at being so close to a walking corpse.

Ravus simply nodded to him and continued walking to pick up the girl Prompto had tackled earlier. He carried her calmly through the ornate archway into the tomb that housed the remains of the first mayor.

Oh. Gladio understood. The number of children was decreasing, and it was because Ravus was removing them from what had become a battlefield and sheltering them in the tomb where the witches couldn’t reach them.

It was a good idea.

“Prompto!”

Noct’s alarmed yell had Gladio and Ignis both turning to help. Prompto skidded across the street, rolling to a stop when he hit the sidewalk on the other side. He gasped and curled around his side. Shit. Was it a direct hit?

Noct streaked out of the graveyard and across the street to Prompto's head, patting his cheek with a paw. “How bad? Talk to me, Prompto.”

Prompto just groaned. So it must be bad.

Gladio ran between Prompto and the witches to cover him, and Ignis quickly acquired more rocks and went to back him up. The air around Gladio was still hazy as his life force leaked out. He hoped that wasn’t bad. Shit. He hadn’t thought about that. Was it just dissipating into the air? Would that kill him? He should have asked Prompto more questions about how that potion worked.

The witches regrouped while Ravus hauled Iris and a child of unidentifiable gender in a dinosaur costume into the tomb. Iris was out of harm’s way, as long as she stayed put.

Exhaustion was starting to catch up to him. At least, he hoped that’s what it was, and that he wasn’t dying. His head felt foggy, his limbs were heavy. The witches were blurry as he faced them.

Ardyn’s eyes were glowing red. He dove down for Gladio with Verstael right behind him. A rock soared by Gladio’s head as Ignis threw it. It smashed into Ardyn, hitting his chest hard enough to make Gladio wince in sympathy that the witch didn’t deserve. Ardyn grabbed for Gladio, and those creepy glowing eyes were shoved in his face.

Ardyn pulled, but Ignis grabbed Gladio again, and Prompto was able to crawl over and hold on to Gladio’s leg. Ardyn couldn’t lift them all.

“Verstael, help me!” he ordered. Verstael flew over on his rake and their combined might managed to lift Gladio a few inches off the ground. He was fighting for his life, but the witches were fighting for their lives too.

Then Ravus was back. He grabbed Ardyn’s leg and pulled down. Ardyn slid sideways on the leaf blower and nearly fell off.

“You putrid sack of decay,” he snarled, finally losing his composure. “Get your filthy hands off me!”

Was it Gladio’s imagination, or was it getting lighter?

No, he wasn’t imagining it. The sun was creeping slowly up the horizon.

Sunrise.

They just had to hold out a little while longer, now.

Ravus didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled harder. Ardyn clung frantically to the leaf blower, swearing. If he fell off, Ravus could drag him through the gate, and he would share the same fate as Loqi.

Verstael released Gladio to go to Ardyn’s aid. The abrupt loss of the opposing force sent them all stumbling backward. But at least the witch’s focus wasn’t on Gladio anymore.

Gladio hadn’t regained his footing when Ignis was dashing by him to join Ravus. Ignis grabbed Ardyn’s leg, and he and Ravus dragged him toward the ground.

In a panic, Ardyn kicked at them with his other leg. “No, no, let me go,” he babbled in fear, holding on to Verstael for dear life.

And then the sun peeked over the horizon.

There was a split second where fear and dismay crossed the witches’ faces, and then they vanished in clouds of dust. Their empty clothes drifted to the ground.

Ignis and Ravus fell over backward as Ardyn disappeared. Gladio caught Ignis on the way down, grinning like an idiot. Ignis looked dazed, glasses askew. It was adorable. “What happened?” he asked, startled.

“It’s dawn. We did it,” Gladio said.

Ignis was breathtaking when he smiled. Seriously, the sight actually constricted Gladio’s chest. Then Iris was running out of the entrance to the tomb and flinging herself at them. One arm wrapped around Gladio’s neck, and the other around Ignis’. “We did it!” she cheered, bouncing in joy. “We beat the evil witches!”

Gladio hugged her tight.

Ignis’ cheeks went pink, but he patted Iris fondly on the back.

“You were so cool, Iggy! I want you to teach me to throw rocks like that,” Iris said, pulling back with a beaming smile.

The poor kid was a mess. Her tights were torn, there were rotting leaves in her hair and stuck to her clothes, her knees were covered in mud and the cute embellishments on her costume had been torn away in the scuffles. But she was relieved and exhausted to the point of giddiness.

She spun away and grabbed Ravus’ hands, dancing him around in a circle without seeming to care that Ardyn’s struggles had ripped a couple of Ravus’ fingers off. “You helped us! Thank you soooooo much. You didn’t have to,” she said when he awkwardly pulled away.

To Gladio’s surprise, Ravus’ eyes softened. He gently touched Iris’ hair. “Yes, I did,” he said softly, and Gladio realized he wasn’t seeing Iris. He was seeing a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes that he had lost so long ago.

Ignis shifted, and Gladio realized he was still holding on to him. “My bad,” he said, letting Ignis go.

Ignis looked back, surprised by the sudden loss of contact. He looked up at Gladio, smiled tentatively. Then he blushed and bit his lower lip.

Gladio was so enthralled by this charming shift in expressions that he didn’t realize that Ignis was getting closer.

 _Oh,_ he realized just as Ignis kissed him.

It was timid and chaste, but he took the opportunity to slide his hand into Ignis’ and lace their fingers together. The kiss was warm and soft and a bit more awkward than he had expected but very sweet.

“Oooooooh, Gladdy’s got a _boyfriend!_ ” Iris squealed, and they broke apart in embarrassment. But Ignis didn’t let go of Gladio’s hand, so Gladio held on to it.

Iris made an attempt to whistle, but just managed a squeaky whooshing noise. She pouted and tried again.

“So I guess we get to find out if salt circles work against new boyfriends after all?” Gladio asked, smiling at Ignis.

Ignis smiled back, still a bit embarrassed. He probably wasn’t used to being teased by little girls. Iris would have to build up his tolerance. “Indeed,” he replied.

And Gladio’s bubble of happiness got bigger.

He might have kissed Ignis again, irritating little sister be damned, but Noct’s voice reminded him that there were two people he hadn’t checked on.

“Does it hurt?” Noct asked behind them.

“Yeah, it kinda does,” Prompto replied.

“Can you stand?”

“I think so, yeah. Woah! Noct, you-”

Prompto was kneeling on the ground, but there was no black cat in sight. Instead, a dark-haired young man who looked to be about the same age as Prompto was on hands and knees in front of him. He was thin and pale, but Prompto was staring at him in open-mouthed wonder.

“What?” the man asked in Noct’s voice.

“You’re _you_. Look!” Prompto grabbed Noct’s hands and showed them to him. Noct stared at his own hands as though he’d never seen them before. But that was about right, since he hadn’t had hands since the witches turned him into a cat so long ago.

Noctis turned his hands this way and that, marvelling at the pink skin and his fingernails. “ . . . they’re bigger than I remember,” he finally said.

Prompto laughed and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Noct’s neck. “I don’t quite get how it worked, but I’m glad you get to be human again.”

Noctis froze when Prompto hugged him. Now that he had a human face, his expression was easy to read. There was shyness and awkwardness there but joy as well.

After a moment, Noct hugged Prompto back. It was tentative at first, but soon he buried his face in Prompto’s neck. “I’m so glad it’s finally over,” he said, voice muffled.

“Tell me about it!” Prompto said. There were tears on his lower lashes, though whether that was from relief, exhaustion, or grief it was hard to tell.

Iris stared with her mouth in a little ‘o’ of surprise. Gladio moved to clamp a hand over her mouth, but too late. “Are you guys boyfriends, too?” she exclaimed in the seconds before his hand cut her off. She wiggled and glared at him, making muffled sounds of protest.

“Geez, Iris, they’re having a moment!” Gladio hissed, but it was too late.

Prompto and Noct broke apart, blushing and unable to meet each others’ eyes. Prompto laughed nervously, and Noctis scratched the back of his neck.

Ignis looped his arm through Gladio’s. “Let’s give them some privacy, shall we, and go see Ravus off.”

Gladio let Ignis tug him away but kept a firm hold on Iris so that she couldn’t go tease the awkward sods back there.

They followed Ravus, who was shambling back to his grave now that the witches were gone and the magic was wearing off. As they walked, Gladio could still hear Noct and Prompto talking in the stillness of the early morning.

“So-sorry, Noct. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” That was Prompto.

“No! No. It, uh, I wasn’t. Uncomfortable, I mean.” And there was Noct, sounding as uncomfortable as he insisted he wasn’t.

“Seriously. You’re not a cat anymore. I shouldn’t be being handsy. It wasn’t cool. Sorry.”

“Ugh. You. You don’t need to apologize. I . . . ” There was a long pause. “I liked it. I like you. Is that okay?” The last part was said very fast.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. . . . we’re friends.”

“ . . . ”

“ . . . Noct? What’s up?”

“ . . . nothing. It’s fine. Really.”

Wow, they seriously needed some help.

Gladio removed his hand from Iris’ mouth.

She took a deep breath, and just as her long-suffering big brother expected, burst into song. “Prompto and Noct, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

There was a muffled scream behind them. Impossible to tell whose.

“First comes LOVE.”

Ignis covered his mouth to stifle a chuckle.

“Then comes MARRIAGE.”

“Make her _stop_ ,” Noct begged.

“Then comes- wait. Can they have babies?” Iris looked to Gladio for an answer. “Can _you?_ Do you want babies?”

Gladio put his hand back over her mouth. “Don’t lick it,” he warned. “Think of where my hands have been.”

Prompto was laughing hysterically with his face in his hands.

“We’re in high school,” Ignis said, voice calm. “Too young to worry about children.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed, relieved.

When Gladio glanced back, Prompto was sitting with Noct kneeling between his spread legs. They weren’t touching anywhere but their foreheads, which rested against one another. They were smiling, hope and nerves shining through.

Gladio hoped it worked out for them.

They arrived at the disturbed pile of dirt where Ravus had clawed out of his grave. Ravus eased himself back into the hole.

“Thank you for your help,” Ignis said, his tone proper and serious.

“You were a really nice zombie,” Iris added.

Both looked to Gladio for his contribution. He coughed. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Ravus nodded to them. Gladio thought that was the only response they would get as Ravus lowered himself out of sight. Then Ravus spoke in a quiet voice. “My thanks for defeating them. I hope that now Lunafreya can rest in peace.”

He settled into place and fell silent. Gladio could only assume that Ardyn’s magic had fled him.

He hoped that Ravus was able to rest in peace now, too. And that he would go wherever Lunafreya was.

Leaves crunched as Noct caught up. Prompto waited by the gate for Noct.

“Ravus gone?” Noct asked, looking at the messy grave. When Ignis nodded, he sighed. “I thought I should say goodbye.”

“Farewell, Noctis,” Ravus’ dry voice came from the grave. Not gone yet, after all.

Noct made a face. “Yeah. Enjoy your dirt nap,” he said, which sounded rude to Gladio, but Ravus did not reply.

There was a quiet, girlish giggle. They all looked at Iris, the only little girl nearby who wasn’t being mind controlled by a spell. Iris shook her head with wide eyes. It wasn’t her.

Noct’s breath caught. Approaching them from the entrance to the cemetery as if she had suddenly spawned into existence was the glowing figure of a girl. She was barefoot and wearing a simple white dress, her glossy blonde hair falling loose around her bare shoulders. It was too cold to be dressed the way she was.

She was ever-so-slightly translucent so that Gladio could see the wrought iron fence through her torso.

“Luna,” Noct breathed. His breath hitched.

“Hi, Luna,” Prompto said, his voice carrying across the cemetery. His tone was a bit nervous. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

The girl smiled over her shoulder at him, and then looked at Noctis. “I’m glad that you were able to break the spell upon you,” she said in a soft voice with an accent like Ravus’. “Farewell, dear Noctis. Be free now.”

Noct nodded. His eyes were too bright as he fought tears. Gladio thought that Noct was too overcome by emotion to speak, but Noct managed to choke out. “Luna. All I wanted . . . was to save you.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.” Luna gave him one last beautiful smile, then walked past him on silent, incorporeal feet. She approached her brother’s grave and paused, waiting.

The air above Ravus’ grave shimmered. Ravus’ form took shape. Not how he’d looked as a zombie. This must be how he’d looked when he was alive. He was all angles and pride and silver-blond hair. Still sixteen.

He wasn’t one to show strong emotion, but he smiled when he saw his sister. “Lunafreya. You came for me.”

She held out her hand. Ravus took it. “Now both of us are free from the magic,” Luna said.

“Yes,” Ravus agreed. “Let’s go. Will you show me the way?”

They turned together. Luna sent the group one last smile over her shoulder, and then the brother and sister pair took a step forward and vanished. Off to a well-deserved rest, Gladio hoped.

Their respectful silence was broken by the ringing of Gladio’s cell phone. He fished it out of his pocket, amazed that it had survived the night. “Shit, it’s dad,” he said. Iris sent him a wide-eyed look. Of course, Clarus would be home and wondering where they were.

Ignis clapped him on the shoulder. “While you talk to your father, the rest of us will see about returning these children to their homes,” he said. Gladio could only nod.

He took a deep breath and answered the phone.

Clarus would never believe the truth.

But what the hell kind of a lie could Gladio possibly come up with?

He was going to be so grounded. But he was alive. Iris was alive. He had the cutest guy in school for a boyfriend and two new friends.

Not a bad deal.


	6. In Which Noct Gets a Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not betaed on account of I finished it last night. I am too sleep deprived to tell if words are spelled correctly so any typos or mistakes are my fault OTL. Enjoy the last chapter!

People were starting to leave for work when Noct and Prompto staggered back to their apartment in the early hours of the morning. Noctis was a bit disoriented. It wasn’t surprising. He’d felt the same way when he was first turned into a cat and had to get used to everything being bigger, brighter, louder. Now he had to get used to two legs instead of four, and everything seemed duller.

Everything except Prompto’s smile.

They held hands in the elevator, just like they’d held hands the whole way home after separating from Ignis and the brother-sister pair. All of them were reeling from exhaustion and had agreed to meet up later after they’d gotten some sleep. Plus, it seemed like Gladio had some explaining to do about the broken coffee table at his house.

Noct hoped he didn’t get in too much trouble. He was a good guy, even though he’d lit the black flame candle.

But because he had, it was finally over. The shadow that had been looming over Noct and Prompto since that night so many years ago had vanished. It was a huge relief.

And yet, Noct felt uneasy when Prompto let go of his hand to unlock the door to their unit.

They had never held hands before. Noct hadn’t known Prompto well enough to hold his hand when they’d first met, and then he hadn’t even _had_ hands.

“Oh,” Prompto said as he pushed the door open.

“What is it?” Noct asked, tilting his head to the side.

“I guess I need to add you to the lease. Now that you’re not a cat, I mean.” Prompto stepped over the threshold and kicked off his shoes. Neither of them bothered to turn on a light. As a witch, Prompto had naturally good night vision, and Noct couldn’t be bothered. He knew the layout of the apartment well enough to navigate in the dark.

“Hmm,” Noct hummed. Crap. He hadn’t even thought about that. “At least we can get the pet deposit back.”

“Oh, yeah!”

When Prompto laughed, some of the worry in Noct’s chest faded.

Well, if Prompto was worried about adding Noct to the lease, he probably wasn’t thinking about parting ways anytime soon. Noct wasn’t sure what he’d do without him if that happened. He’d lived with Prompto so long that he couldn’t imagine life without him.

Not like that was the only reason he didn’t want to be separated from Prompto.

There were cat toys scattered over the floor and a cat tree in the living room. They probably didn’t need those anymore.

Prompto went in to their narrow kitchen and filled a glass with water. He drank it all in one breath and set it in the sink with a sigh. “Much better,” he said. “You thirsty?”

“Not really.” Noct stuck his hands in his pockets, which was another magical mystery. Why did he have clothes that fit? He’d been eight when he was turned into a cat, and he was an adult now. “You okay?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, but he wanted to be sure. The others had still been around earlier, and he worried that Prompto wouldn’t feel right expressing grief in front of them. After all, to Ignis, Gladio, and Iris, the witches were just monsters.

Prompto’s feelings were much more complicated.

His smile faltered, but didn’t disappear. “Yeah.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out. “I like to think that- maybe, now that the spell is broken- they can finally rest properly.”

Yeah. In hell.

But Noct would never say that out loud. Not to Prompto.

He’d comforted Prompto too many times when Prompto would call for his father and his brother in the middle of the night.

Noct ached to go hold him, but Prompto’s response to his confession hadn’t exactly been encouraging. There was nothing wrong with being friends with Prompto. Noct just... wanted something else.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life,” Prompto said. He went to the bedroom and began digging through the dresser for clothes to sleep in. “We’re about the same size, so you can use mine for now.”

He held out a stack of clothes to Noct, who took them. “Thanks.”

Prompto went back to the dresser to get clothes for himself, but Noct didn’t move.

After a moment, Prompto realized that he was still hovering in the doorway. “Noct? What’s up?”

“...Should I sleep on the couch?” Noct asked. He’d been worrying about it. They’d always shared the bed before, but Noct had been a cat then.

Things were different now.

“What? Why?”

Noct shifted in discomfort. “Well, I told you I like you. I know you didn’t really get it, but I don’t want to make things weird.”

Prompto was still staring at him in confusion. Noct’s face flushed. Astrals, he had to elaborate. As if the words hadn’t been hard enough to say the first two times.

“Of course I like you as a friend. We _are_ friends. But I also- I mean-” Ugh. “Like how Ignis and Gladio like each other. I couldn’t say it while I was a cat.”

 _That_ Prompto understood. His face flushed and he hugged his pyjamas tighter against his chest. “You wanna date?” Prompto asked for clarification.

“Um. Yeah. I mean, uh, if you want to.”

“Y-yeah. I’d like that, yeah.”

Noct couldn’t believe it. “Are you sure?”

Prompto threw his pyjama shirt at him. “ _Duh._ Dude, you think I’d lie about that?”

Noct pulled the shirt off his head. His face felt like it was stretching weirdly. But Prompto was smiling. It took a second for Noct to realize that the strange stretching feeling was his own smile.

He could smile back at Prompto now.

“Now hurry up and get changed, Noct. I’m dead tired.” Huffing, Prompto drew his own shirt up and over his head. He was pale and beautiful and freckled. Noct had always thought so. He couldn’t bring himself to say it quite yet.

Maybe tomorrow. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea.

When they were changed and snuggled in the bed together, Noct yawned. He could feel sleep pulling him down. “You’ll need to update your blog.”

“Hmm?” Prompto sounded half asleep already. No surprise. He’d used quite a lot of magic today, and that always seemed to take a lot out of him. He’d been a real super star protecting everyone.

Noct would have to tell him that too. In the morning.

“The cat one. You don’t have a cat anymore.”

“Ah, shit, you’re right! I’m gonna lose followers.” Prompto sighed. He sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, leaving Noct blinking in the sudden brightness.

“What are you-” Then Prompto was kissing his cheek, and Noct’s brain short circuited. He recognized the camera shutter noise from Prompto’s phone just before Prompto pulled away. “What gives?”

Prompto leaned against the pillows, tapping at the on-screen keyboard of his phone. “I’m updating my followers about my new roommate situation.”

Noct wiggled to get more comfortable. “You haven’t even talked to the landlord yet.”

“I will tomorrow. Or, shoot, I guess it’s today. Yeah. Later today. At a more, y’know, reasonable hour.”

Noct smiled. Prompto turned off the light, set his phone aside, and wiggled back under the covers. “Yeah. Goodnight Prompto.”

“’Night.”

\---

Prompto loved to take pictures, so he was thrilled at the invention of image-sharing social media. He started out with just a regular account full of selfies and his photography, but he noticed that his pictures of Noct doing cute cat things got a lot more likes.

So he started a separate account for Noct pictures.

He called it “The Roommate Blog”. As far as his followers were concerned, that was Noct’s second name. It was full of cute cat snaps with funny captions.

Noct curled up asleep in a pair of Prompto discarded pants?

_“Geez, my roommate keeps stealing my clothes! Not cool, buddy!”_

A picture of Noct rolling around in the shredded remains of an entire roll of toilet paper?

_“Look what my roommate did! D < He has no manners at all. None!”_

A picture of Noct sitting on the floor staring up?

_“He tries to look innocent. I’m not fooled.”_

It was way more popular than his photography blog. But Prompto didn’t have a cat anymore.

He announced his new boyfriend the way he announced most things: with a picture.

 _“Look! It’s my cat in human form!”_ In the picture, Noct was sprawled on the couch in an ugly button-up, fast asleep.

Comments were mixed, from amusement that Noct really did resemble the cat, to annoyance that Prompto wasn’t posting cat pictures for a while.

It was true that the account became a boyfriend blog for a while, but not for long.

“Uh, Prompto?”

Noct’s nervous voice made Prompto look up from obsessively watching the spaghetti to make sure it didn’t overcook. “What’s up?” The words were out of his mouth before he noticed the cat in Noct’s arms.

It was a sleek, pretty black cat with a nick in its ear and four snow-white paws. It was a little rough-looking, which probably meant it was a stay. “Awwww,” Prompto cooed, coming over to offer his fingers for the cat to sniff. “Where did you find her?”

“At Luna’s- er, in the garden at Fenestala Manor.” The cat was already taken with Noct, letting him scritch her between the ears and purring like mad.

Noct didn’t have any work experience (or any education that wasn’t from Prompto’s self-study), so it hadn’t been easy for him to get a job. He finally got a part-time job working for Aera, a descendant of cousins of Lunafreya and Ravus, at the museum she owned. Ignis worked there and had put in a good word for Noct, which was really kind of him.

Since it had worked out, Noct had recently been moved to full time.

“Can we keep her?” Noct asked, tone soft and shy.

“I guess so. The landlord never did give us our pet deposit back, and we’ve still got all your cat stuff.” No surprise that Noct had a soft spot for cats.

“Cool. I, uh, already named her.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

“...”

“Noct?”

“...Luna.”

Oh.

“I found her at Luna’s house, after all, and she’s a girl. So. It suits her,” Noct said. Like he needed to defend his choice.

Prompto smiled up at him. “It’s a great name! Oh, we’ll have to get her a vet appointment, I guess. Make sure she’s healthy.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Of course Prompto had to announce the new addition to the family to his followers. He posed them all in a family picture, with little Luna patiently wearing a dorky sweater that Prompto had picked out for her. Noct was wearing a dorky sweater, too, but he picked that out himself. He also refused to acknowledge that it was dorky.

“My clothes are awesome,” he said defensively when Prompto laughed.

“Sure, dude.”

He captioned the photo _“We adopted!”_ with the two of them holding Luna up like she was a new baby. Most comments were pleased that they had another cat and ragging on Prompto for picking such a typical cat name.

One comment was different.

“That’s a great namesake for her.”

Prompto forgot that Gladio had an account and followed the blog. Of course he knew what Luna’s name represented.

When Prompto showed the comment to Noct, he teared up. “Tell him thanks,” Noct said.

“Sure.”

A week later, Noct showed up with another black cat. This one had a white smudge near his nose.

Prompto opened his mouth to say that one cat was great, but he wasn’t sure about having two.

He didn’t get a chance to get the words out.

“This is Ravus,” Noct told him. And, well, what was Prompto supposed to say to that?

Prompto sighed and held out his arms to make the cat’s acquaintance. When Noct passed the cat to him, Prompto noticed something. “Is he missing a paw?”

“Yeah. Dunno what happened.” Noct gave the cat an affectionate scritch. “He’s not young like Luna. Maybe a few years old.”

“Hm.” The cat sniffed curiously at Prompto’s face, and he giggle as the whiskers tickled his skin. “Guess we have to take another family pic to announce our new son, huh?”

Noct rolled his eyes as though put upon, but he was smiling. “Guess so.”

So Prompto pulled out the tacky holiday sweaters, and they posed in front of the window where the snow drifted down outside. He thought his smile in that picture was the brightest one he’d smiled for a long time.

The two of them would love and care for Luna and Ravus the way they hadn’t been able to for the cats’ namesakes. And maybe, just maybe, the wound they left on Noct’s heart would heal a little.


End file.
